Bad Moon Rising
by Initial A
Summary: Emma's sure she's never been happier. But the past she thought she'd left behind starts to rear its ugly head, taking down the Boston packs one by one, and a desperate visitor in the night reminds her of the legacy she thought she'd escaped for good. Afraid of what her parents left behind and fearful for the future she and Killian are creating together, a bad moon is on the rise.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to the sequel to 'The Werewolf of London', brought to you by the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer event. There will be blood and violence and sex and fluffy wolf cuddles. This whole thing has spiraled way out of my control and I hope you enjoy what I have in store.**

 **Many, many thanks to my artist and co-conspirator distant-rose, and my ever-patient beta idoltina for holding my hand throughout this whole nerve-wracking process.**

* * *

A drop of toothpaste dripped onto her black tank top before she could react. Emma sighed in annoyance, her shoulders slouching, then went back to vigorously brushing her teeth. It was bad enough she was late getting up and ready for the day, now she'd have to change, too.

"Morning, darling," Killian said, popping his head into the bathroom and kissing her on the cheek.

She leaned in to it, her hackles lowering at the feel and scent of him surrounding her. "Morning," she mumbled around both toothpaste and brush, then leaned over the sink to spit. "Running late."

"Coffee's in a thermos, and there's a fresh box of breakfast bars for you."

She smiled, rinsing and patting her face dry with a towel. He knew her so well. "Good provider," she said teasingly, patting his cheek as she went back to their bedroom to change.

Killian hummed with appreciation as she stripped out of her tank and rummaged in the dresser for something else to wear. "Down boy," Emma warned.

"You know how I get around the full moon, sweet."

"Yeah, well, we don't have time this morning. We'll try for a quickie before the moon rises tonight, you know how much I hate fucking in wolf form."

Killian sighed in that overly dramatic way of his that made her both roll her eyes and smile. She found another black camisole that would work under the top she'd been planning to wear and threw it on. "How quickly the honeymoon phase ends," he mused, and she heard him fiddling with his prosthetic. "Already we have to schedule when we have sex."

Emma pulled on the nicer top and paused to kiss his cheek as she moved to leave. "I think that part came into play when you stopped living in that hotel and moved into my bed."

* * *

" _Move in with me," she said softly, almost inaudible from where she lay her head on his chest._

 _He didn't dare breathe, for fear of jostling her and making her realize what she said, making her stammer and take it back or make it seem like she'd meant to say something else and it slipped out. But the longer he didn't reply, the more prominent the smell of fear, anxiety, and dread became. "Say that again," he said, quiet and pleading._

 _She shifted, resting her chin on her hand and looking at him with wide, guileless green eyes. He'd been in the States again for only two months, working hard to open this new branch of their business and living out of a hotel - well, spending_ some _of his time in the hotel. Emma was fairly insistent on rekindling what they'd started in January, and who was he to complain about the warmth of a woman he cared for and the familiar comforts of her apartment? After their memorable reunion in the woods, he didn't mind the extra chances to catch up on lost time._

 _She'd welcomed him into her home, into her bed, with only three days and a lot of sex to bind them._

" _Move in with me," Emma said, more clearly this time, her eyes searching his and the scent of nerves almost overpowering him._

 _Instead of answering, he sat up, bringing her with him. He cupped her face in his hand, his thumb gliding along the full pout of her lower lip, his nose brushing hers as he considered her request. Every time he left her, even if it was only to go to work, he felt this aching need to return to her after just an hour. The chance to see her regularly, with no lonely, sterile hotel waiting for him on the nights she had to be out for work, gripped him tight and he pressed their lips together and made her squeak in surprise._

" _Aye, love. I'll move in with you."_

* * *

He grabbed her wrist before she could go and pulled her flush against him, his mouth pressed against hers in a way that made her knees go weak. Her wolf senses were flushed with the taste and the smell of him, her baser instincts clawing at her to fuck him until neither of them could see straight, but humanity - and the fact that she liked having a roof over her head - prevailed. She inhaled deeply after they parted, unable to resist the urge to take in his aroused scent. "What was I saying?" she asked softly.

"Something about me being in your bed, which is tragically empty of either of us right now." She was glad to hear that he sounded as wrecked as she felt.

"We have jobs to go to," she said, though it really did sound like a weak excuse when the pull of the moon and her desire for him felt so strong.

"Mmm."

Killian kissed her nose and she nuzzled him in return. He was _so_ fucked later, she promised herself. "Later," she said. "Just… raincheck on this and come back to it later."

"Alright, love," he said, letting her go.

She heard him chuckle as she walked away on slightly wobbly legs. She shrugged into her leather jacket and grabbed both the thermos of coffee and a breakfast bar before picking up her purse. "Love you," she called over her shoulder.

"Love you too, darling, have a good day."

* * *

Luck was not on their side.

A stream of steamy texts over the course of the day left Emma in a nearly perpetual state of arousal and left Ruby complaining about the scent permeating the entire office. She was only lucky that none of the other werewolves in their office were in that day - everyone was either out on a case or had strategically taken the day off with the full moon coming that night; Emma had always admired those who were able to take that time, but she always worried that it would only take one savvy HR person to realize there was a pattern and out the whole community of wolves living under the noses of the humans. Hell, a whole magical community, not just the wolves; where one species fell, the others weren't far behind, or so the logic went.

So she stuck it out and suffered, the itch under her skin of the change to come later that night growing stronger as the day wore on, and the heat between her legs flaring up with every new text from Killian. And it would have been fine, everything would have gone as planned, except for the fact that at four o'clock on the nose Emma got a tip from one of her informants about a skip she'd been hunting for weeks. Weeks. The apex predator in her, both the human side and the wolf side, seethed at being evaded for so long and she jumped at the chance to go hunting and relieve some of the itching under her skin.

As she got into her Bug, she checked the time, cross-referencing when the sun would set and the moon would rise. If she played her cards right, and she was both an excellent bounty hunter and poker player, she'd have this guy locked up and delivered to the precinct in enough time.

If she didn't? Well, this guy would get dragged off by a canine more than half his height. Or she'd get a good whiff of his scent and really be able to track him down later.

With how dodgy this perp had been, she kind of hoped she wouldn't find him before moonrise.

She sent a quick apology/explanation text to Killian to let him know she might not make it in time; she hated to disappoint him and put off their plans until morning, but she knew he'd understand eventually. He might put up a front about it at first but they'd get there in the end. She stuck her phone in her jacket pocket then shifted the Bug into gear, heading out towards the last place her perp had been seen.

But it was almost stupidly easy to nab the guy, which was kind of a disappointment after how long he'd evaded her every trap. He'd been sitting right where her informant had said he was, still reading the paper with his coffee, and it took three lines before she got the cuffs on him.

"Hey, I'd remember seeing a handsome guy like you. You new in town?"

"Piss off, sister, I'm not interested."

"Weird, because your arrest record says I'm just your type."

Comically easy. It's like she'd scripted the perfect takedown: he looked up in shock, she already had the cuffs out, and then he was down on the table with his arms behind his back before he could react.

A little superhuman speed never hurt anyone. Well, never hurt any of the good guys, anyway.

Emma was even surprised she didn't have to threaten to gag the guy as she dragged him to the nearest precinct office; he was sullen and quiet the whole way. Usually, perps mouthed off the whole time, driving her crazy. The hand-off went smoothly, she got her cuffs back without having to beg for them, and even the paperwork took less time than she imagined.

The sun was setting by the time she got back to the apartment.

"Killian!" Emma called, closing the door behind her and shrugging out of her jacket. She kicked her boots off and slung the jacket over the back of a chair. "Hey, sorry I didn't have a chance to call before getting home, we've got just enough time to-"

She paused in removing her shirt, nostrils flaring. She realized his scent in the apartment was old; he hadn't been back since that morning. Frowning, she fished around for her phone in her jacket pocket. He was always home before she was, perk of being his own boss. He could work from home whenever, but he always liked to put in at least the majority of his day at the office; he'd come home in the afternoon and switch between taking care of dinner and continuing to work on accounts in the spare room they'd converted into his office, and Emma's days of coming home daily with takeout or feasting on leftover takeout were long behind her.

So him not being here was more of a concern than not; she unlocked her phone and looked at her messages: nothing. Not even a response from when she'd told him of her perp chase.

Emma worried her lip between her teeth. This wasn't like him at all. Killian was nothing if not punctual with responses to any kind of communication - he'd sent out _thank you notes_ after he'd been included in the pack's summer birthday celebration, for God's sake. (Even Emma's mother, who had been a pinnacle of decorum and manners, had given up on making her send thank you notes after she'd turned like, eight, and threw a fit about it every time.) She didn't want to be a clingy, nagging girlfriend, calling and checking up on him, but this was really unusual for him. But…

She didn't have the best track record for coming home to an empty house. The last time it had happened it was after Granny Lucas said she was recovered enough from losing her litter to go home; Neal was already gone, Emma knew that, the pain of a broken mate-bond usurping even the pain of losing a litter, but it still hurt to return to an empty apartment and have it cemented that she'd been abandoned in her time of need. And the time before that, she'd been sixteen and her parents house showed clear signs of a fight; she'd followed the trail to the challenge grounds, only to arrive just before Regina murdered Snow for control of the North End pack.

* * *

" _Mom!"_

 _The moonlight on the snow gave her a clear view of the challenge grounds - Dad sprawled on the ground and a dark spot spreading under him, Regina bearing down on Mom, more light glinting off the ceremonial knives hidden away for such occasions._

 _Hearing her voice, Mom pushed Regina back with a shout. "Emma, leave!"_

 _Her feet slipped - the stones were icy this time of year, but she had to get to Dad. He was hurt, she had to stop the bleeding until help arrived. "No, I'm not going anywhere!"_

 _Mom lashed out, almost cutting Regina's face. She'd never heard this tone from her mother before, not even after that time she'd broken the vase in the front hall. "Go home_ now _!"_

 _But Regina lunged, just as Emma's foot slipped. She cried out as she went crashing into the snow, her mother's surprised shout suddenly cut off and the sound of a fight fading into the crisp winter's night._

* * *

Emma swallowed back bile; they hadn't been together long, but what they had was intense and felt more real to her than anything she'd ever had before, so she _hoped_ she wasn't wrong about Killian and that he hadn't left. She told herself something must have come up at work, that he must have gotten sidetracked the same way she got caught up in a case, but to not even have an acknowledgement of her text felt _wrong_ somehow. She glanced out the window, trying to run through the list of possible reasons why he hadn't responded, hating that she felt like she needed to obsessively think about this, but the deep reds and oranges the setting sun was casting on the buildings outside only made her think of blood.

While she hated to even consider it, the thought of blood reminded her that there'd been some foul rumors and doings of late. Nothing had been happening within the Dorchester pack's territory, or even where Killian worked up in South Boston territory, but the downtown and central packs, including the North End pack, had been involved in more scuffles than anyone in the outside territories were comfortable with. And the number of regular humans involved were far higher than anyone would like. It was practically begging for anyone outside of the magical community to take notice, especially as things started to spread. Even Uncle James had taken notice, and he hardly ever bothered with pack politics outside of Dorchester.

The moon turning full always put everyone's blood up, so if there was some kind of feud starting…

She hit 'call' before she could think it through any further. It rang three times before it stopped and she heard him swear and fumble with the device before answering; even that much made the anxious knot in her chest ease. " _Swan?_ "

"Hey. Hi. Sorry, I-" Emma paused, overwhelmed just by how much hearing his voice affected her and eased the near-panic she'd fretted herself into. "I-hi."

" _Bloody hell,_ " Killian said. " _Love, I am sorry, this afternoon got away from me entirely. Liam called with a merger crisis and I've been on the phone with three different countries for hours and I hardly remember how to speak proper English-Emma? Are you alright?_ "

She sniffled, swiping at her eyes and calling herself a dozen kinds of idiot. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay, I just… I got worried."

He exhaled loudly. " _I'm sorry, love. Did you-yes, I see you did message me. Bloody-hell, it's sundown. Moonrise is when?_ "

"About half an hour."

" _Fuck._ "

"Yeah," Emma said. "Better get out of there, unless you want to really freak out your employees."

Killian chuckled and she pressed the phone harder against her ear, letting the sound warm her insides and keep her calm. " _Well, I think I'm the last one here, but you've a point. Though I think I'll have to leave everything here…_ "

"I'll drive you to work tomorrow," Emma promised.

" _Alright, thank you, love. I'm sorry we weren't able to make good on our plans._ "

"It's okay," she said. "I was worried I wouldn't make it either. And I'm just glad you're okay. We'll make up for it in the morning."

" _It's a promise. I'll meet you at our spot, yeah?_ "

"Yeah."

Their spot was a pond in one of the conservation areas nearby; being city wolves, it was generally agreed upon that the state parks, reservations, and conservatories were neutral ground for all the packs to use for hunting and roaming. People took enough pictures of foxes and coyotes spotted in urban areas, the last thing anyone needed was to Snapchat any larger-than-average wolves scavenging near Fenway Park.

Emma let herself out of the apartment and made her way to her usual spot for the change to take place. It looked like it was going to be a clear, crisp night - while the first summer moon was her favorite, she loved the October moons too. Not only because of her personal birthday, but something always felt extra special about an October full moon. Maybe it was the approach of Halloween and the ease the American magical community felt about the public's embrace of the occult, or maybe it was how months of running warm were starting to fade into crisp nights made for sprinting.

Or maybe it was just the satisfying way leaves crunched under her paws.

It was probably the leaves.

She took the change in stride, energy filling her veins as she shifted from woman to wolf, shaking her pale fur out and inhaling deeply. Her senses as a human were far from dull, but everything was so enhanced in her wolf form. And things that would normally bother her - the usual smells and stains of city-living - didn't affect her wolf form nearly as much. The canine part of her seemed to take over, noting with interest the changes of each scent that had previously been logged in her brain, then her growling belly took precedent.

Time for hunting.

She didn't rush herself, knowing it would be some time before Killian could meet with her, and took the opportunity to let her track meander and weave, following her nose towards something that soon become her dinner. She crossed paths with packmates and wolves from rival packs alike, keeping to the shadows as much as she could, alternating between a trot and a run, her muscles singing at the chance to stretch and run. She could hear others in the distance, the yips and howls of packmates reunited.

Ruby and Dorothy found her at one point, tackling her to the ground and scaring off the rabbit Emma had been tracking for the last mile. She rolled over under their weight and nipped at Ruby's ear in annoyance - she was hungry, dammit!

Dorothy got off first, sitting primly next to them. : _Find mate?_ : she asked, the image of Killian coming across.

: _Slow. Here soon,_ : Emma replied.

She'd always found the shared mind-speech to be strange - they could communicate over very short distances - about the same range as humans - but simple ideas seemed to transfer easier. The elders didn't really question it, but as technology and magic merged, more of their kind were able to study one another; there were theories about just how much of their wolf and human senses ebbed and flowed during the moon cycle. The current thought was that at the peak, the full moon, the wolf took the lion's share of the brain and so while _Emma_ could understand complex thoughts and ideas, her wolf self needed something more simple to understand. _Emma_ wouldn't call Killian her mate, because the term carried too much weight and meaning, but there really wasn't a term for 'boyfriend' that their more primal senses would understand.

Ruby's ears pricked up at a few distant calls. : _?_ :

Emma listened too, Dorothy's hackles and tail going up as she tensed. There were mixed calls, most of them from other packs than theirs, and it was hard to pick up on what exactly the commotion was about. : _Hunt song,_ : Dorothy said finally, relaxing.

: _Warning call,_ : Ruby argued.

There'd been a few warning calls, but with all the hunt songs it made sense to interpret that as the hunters warning off anyone who might be trying to steal their prey. : _Silly pup,_ : Emma chided, biting her ear again and tugging on it this time. : _Hunt song._ :

Ruby whuffed, resting her head on her paws with a grumble. Dorothy licked her mate's forehead with a sympathetic whine. Another call had Emma's ears up again and she responded in kind, getting up so quickly that Ruby rolled off of her with a surprised yelp. Dorothy's snout crinkled, revealing her teeth, a silent wolf's laugh. : _Hunt, seek mate. Pack together soon,_ : she said, with an image of herself and Ruby waiting for them.

Emma set off towards the pond, trying not to sprint outright, but it was hard to keep herself in check. Her worry from earlier had only increased her desire to see Killian, combined with how they'd teased each other all day and the way they'd left one another that morning - all on top of the fact that she just flat-out _missed_ him when he wasn't around.

Just a few months into this relationship and it was already so much more than anything she'd ever had before. It was scary. It was exciting. It was...

She spotted him up ahead, the moonlight gilding his black fur silver, and broke into a run, leaping at him and causing them both to tumble tail over snout into the shallows of the pond.

Killian headbutted her affectionately and she nipped at his ear.

It was everything she ever could have wanted.

They climbed out of the pond, shaking off the mud and water from their fur. : _Hungry,_ : Emma whined. She tried to explain how Ruby and Dorothy had denied her hunt before.

Killian nuzzled her, teasing her with the image of herself lolling about on the floor like some kind of lazy, overly-indulged dog who complained when her bowl was empty for more than thirty seconds. Emma actually bit him this time, right on the snout, her lips curled back in a snarl; his ears went down in apology. Without another 'word' between them, she set off; he was a few paces behind, letting her take point.

They lucked out, tracking down a couple of rabbits and making quick work of them. Her belly feeling better now that it was full and her own temper cooling down without that need fighting to be met, Emma didn't rebuff him when he sidled up next to her, pressing himself against her so they walked almost as if they were in some kind of strange six-legged race. She pretended to grumble when he nuzzled her, her tail draping over his, and let him lead her to a mossy patch they liked to relax on while digesting their dinner.

Killian flopped down on the ground with a sigh and Emma lay half on top of him, their heads close together. She heard his tail making a mess of the leaves littering the forest floor and knew he was content with this. : _Missed you,_ : she sent. : _Worried. Scared._ :

: _Here now. Missed you. Mate now?_ : he asked, whuffing in amusement when she growled and bit at the thick ruff of fur around his neck in annoyance.

It wasn't as if she didn't want to, even if he was layering his mind-speech with insinuations that since she missed him so much and worried so much that she should really make sure he was fine. The desire remained no matter the form she took, and she knew from their talks that her scent was even more powerful in this form and it had to be driving him crazy. But even if she liked mating in this form - which she seriously did not, there were _some_ advantages to having a human form, thank you very much - she felt as full as if she'd just gorged herself on Thanksgiving dinner. And it was never a good idea to fuck after eating that much. Ever.

: _Insolent pup. Sunrise,_ : she promised, her eyes closing as the sleepy effects of a full stomach took over. She drowsily remembered that Ruby and Dorothy were waiting to meet up later, then reasoned they'd just have to keep waiting.

She didn't know how long they'd been napping before a shot rang out.

They started to their feet, as clumsy and confused as a newborn pup, ears straining and tails erect with fear as they tried to figure out where the sound of gunfire came from. The wolf wanted to panic, wanted to run and attack anything that got in her way. Emma clung to whatever bit of humanity remained in this form, knowing that nothing good would come out of a werewolf attack - and though they wouldn't be able to identify it as _were_ wolf, they'd notice that the claw and teeth marks would be much larger, much deeper than those of a common gray wolf. Stories would spread about some kind of rabid wolfdog or direwolf or whatever else humans concocted when scared and refusing to face what was right under their noses, and the entire werewolf community would have to hide until the panic settled and the event labeled as some kind of freak accident.

Until the victim turned.

Assuming he was left alive that is, (and Emma felt so much panic that it was a slim chance that anyone who startled her at this point would live to talk about it), he'd be the first human to be turned in their territory in nearly fifty years. It was doubtful if anyone remembered what to do in the event of an attack and the victim lived.

And if he died, well, Uncle James would sniff the truth out of her pretty damn quick. Assailants were handled swiftly and without mercy by pack leaders, family relations notwithstanding.

So as deeply as she wanted to, she had to hold on and keep her cool until they got to safety. Or until sunrise. Or both.

Really, both was the better option.

Another shot rang out and they zeroed in on the direction it came from. : _Run!_ : Killian ordered, teeth bared, before darting off in the opposite direction. : _Hunters!_ :

She took off after him, ears laid back to make sure they weren't being followed. She remembered the signals from earlier, the mixed sounds of hunt song and warning calls, and realized that Ruby had been right - it was a warning call, a warning about hunters. They were the apex predators, they rarely if ever needed to warn others about being hunted.

And who was crazy enough to hunt wolves after hearing how many of them there were?

Killian barked ahead of her. : _Scatter!_ :

Another gunshot, this one from closer up ahead - did he see something? Were there actually multiple hunters out tonight? She thought of home, their apartment, wishing desperately they were there instead of running for their lives out here.

This was supposed to be a night of reconnection, reunion of the pack, the monthly reminder that while the shapeshifting part of their lives hurt and could be hellish, they were both human and wolf and could find joy in all parts of themselves. Not this nightmarish scenario of being hunted and skinned and stuffed like some prize.

She veered away, her feet flying under her, hoping she was heading towards home - she didn't have time to pause and get her bearings, she only had to hope she was running back towards the city and not towards the ocean. She couldn't even count on her nose at the moment, she was breathing too hard, and out here it all mixed together with the woods anyway.

She heard two more shots nearby, and then someone started a Howl - it wasn't a hunt song or a warning call.

It was a battle cry.

Someone was trying to scare the hunters off and Emma wanted no part in that. She just wanted to find Killian and get home. The howls quickly turned into barks and snarls, whoever was banding together to scare their hunters off had found someone to intimidate. She didn't hear the human's voice in response, but she also didn't hear anymore gunfire as the pack descended. She started to feel some relief, but didn't stop running, wanting to put more distance between them.

Emma called out for Killian and she got a response that he was heading towards her. The scent in the air changed little by little, becoming more city-like, and she hoped they could just make it back to the apartment without anything else happening.

She saw streetlights ahead and slowed to a stop, wanting to catch her breath before needing to resort to stealth to make it the rest of the way home. She whined, pacing in a circle. She was thirsty, she was nervous, she just wanted the safety of home and Killian and-

Her hackles rose as something crashed through the brush behind her, but Killian sprang out of the woods, breathing hard, and she relaxed. Whining again, she hurried over to him, nuzzling him and licking him wherever she could reach. : _Safe now, den?_ :

A coppery metallic tang hit her nose as she licked down towards his shoulders - then the taste of it hit her tongue, and she realized it was blood. She froze, sniffing cautiously. He wheezed, hacking for a moment like he was trying to cough something up, then his legs buckled. : _Hurts,_ : was all he managed before falling to the ground completely.

She smelled blood, yes, but there was sulfur too, and a different metallic scent - darker, heavier, one she associated with the handgun she kept for her job.

He'd been shot.

She didn't know what else to do - didn't know when sunrise was, how long he'd been bleeding or how serious it was. She didn't even know if the bullet was silver - hunters with magical knowledge were rare but they existed.

Panic rearing its ugly head again, she did the only thing she could think. She threw her head back and let out a mournful howl, praying someone was still nearby to hear and come help.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you everyone for the excitement (and frustration, haha) about this story! I'm aiming to update twice a month, just as a heads up moving forward.**

* * *

Dirt filled his nose after he collapsed. He could hear Emma whining and pacing, the echoes of her cry for help ringing in his ears, but he couldn't even summon the strength to reassure her. His own thoughts were muddled and hazy and he couldn't find the words to communicate to her that he was still awake and he was _fine_ , really, he was just…

Hurt.

He blinked, slowly, as if his eyelids were lined with lead, and it became harder and harder to keep them open. Not even the hurried steps and crashes in the underbrush nearby could get his legs to work, though he tried, and the words and yips and barks exchanged above him were too distant to make out properly… no, they were right there, how could they be distant…?

Someone stepped in front of him and Emma's scent flooded his senses - _Emma_. His Emma, standing guard, nuzzling and licking and whining near his ear, and he just wanted to tell her it was going to be fine, he was going to be fine, but he just - damn. Damn them all. He could hardly remember what had happened, only that he hurt and only Emma and the urge to meet her and keep her safe and not leave her alone for too long had kept him moving - until he couldn't move anymore.

He heard digging, felt paws jabbing at his stomach and sides, and soon the ground beneath him gave way, just a little; then someone was wriggling under him and he whined as he was lifted up, slung across someone's back. Emma was there, reassuring him that it was alright, but the pain in his back increased as his body was stretched out in a new way and he couldn't even summon the strength to cry out in pain. They started to move and the pain only increased as he bounced along, slung across the unknown wolf's back, and blessedly he found himself drifting out of consciousness for the journey.

* * *

 _:Leave foolish pup. Outcast.:_

 _A yelp meant someone had been unwise enough to try and help. Gold's words echoed in his mind, the irrational side of pain latching on to them and running them again and again in his mind - he wondered dimly who had been trying to come near._

 _Milah?_

 _Blood clogged his sensitive nose, his ribs aching from the beating he'd received, his left foreleg completely numb - shock from having his paw torn off in Gold's jaw. He was half blind from a concussion, every breath he took felt like a painful victory._

 _:Brother.:_

 _Liam. Killian couldn't move to acknowledge him, even mind-speech was too much. Another yelp. :Insolent pup!_ Both _outcast!: Gold screamed, and the last thing Killian heard was Liam's growling bark._

* * *

The next time he came to consciousness, he was aware of two things: his back hurt like hell, and he was human again.

His eyelids still felt leaden but he did his best to open them regardless. His surroundings were unfamiliar, but the room smelled like pack - Emma. Moving hurt, but he could smell Emma nearby and - she was there, curled up next to him on this soft surface he was stretched out on. Her breathing was soft and even, the sign of someone in a deep sleep. He wondered how she was able to sleep at a time like this, he knew he'd have a hard time with it if their positions were reversed -

"I gave her a hefty sleeping drought," a woman's voice said. "Poor thing was worrying herself sick when they brought you in, so once the sun came up I made her take something. Still mate-guarding, though, even like that."

Killian looked up with enormous difficulty. He recognized Granny Lucas, one of the pack elders, with her hands propped on her hips and looking at him expectantly. "And what business do you have with getting yourself shot, youngster?"

His tongue felt as leaden as his eyes, but he did his best. "Don't know. Was trying to run."

"You're lucky it was probably some regular folk trying to scare off a regular wolf pack - I took the bullet out and it wasn't silver, but it sure was lodged up in your shoulder blade. Your dark fur probably helped them miss that badly."

"Lucky me."

"Luckier you were passed out. I could clean it and stitch you up without a fuss. Even slapped on some salve I got from the witch down the way - you won't scar, but that's why you feel all fuzzy. You'll heal up in a couple of days, but I expect her to fuss for a lot longer," Granny said, nodding to Emma. "If she's anything like her mother, she'll get that imperial look in her eye and next thing you know you'll be relegated to bedrest for the next week and not quite know how she convinced you to do it."

If he were in less pain and less 'fuzzy', in her words, he'd be more interested to hear about how Granny knew Emma's mother. Emma didn't really talk about her parents, not even during that fateful weekend they'd met; aside from a few sayings from her mother, all he really knew was that they'd been her old pack's bosses until she was sixteen, when an usurper called Regina rightfully won a challenge for leadership. Pack leadership didn't automatically transfer from parent to child, but it took a certain type of personality to effectively rule a pack of hotheads. Children of an alpha usually picked up on a couple of personality traits or habits that usually meant they became alphas or mated to alphas in their own right. If Emma's occasional bursts of stubborn imperiosity came from her mother, then he wasn't surprised.

Granny came over to him holding a green bottle of something that smelled vile. "Don't turn up your nose at this, it's another sleeping drought. Rest a bit, you're safe here."

As awful as it smelled, Killian knew better than to disobey a pack elder. She might be past the age of turning, but she'd still knock him tail-over-snout if she even caught a whiff of disrespect. She helped him sit up a little, just enough so that the drought didn't spill over onto the bed, then he laid back down. He didn't remember closing his eyes.

* * *

The next time he woke it was to Emma fitting herself more comfortably next to him. Her scent filled his nose and set him immediately at ease. He felt marginally less like he was built alternatively of stuffing and lead, and was able to open his eyes to the dim room. "Swan?" he asked, his throat dry as a bone.

"Oh my God!"

She was upon him in a moment, kissing every inch of his face she could reach. He tried to return the favor, but she was too quick, moving before he could do anything but pucker his lips uselessly. The relief and joy she felt radiated from her and he couldn't help but smile as she cupped his face between her hands and continued her affectionate assault on him. If she were less human, her tail would be wagging incessantly. "Emma, leave the boy alone," Granny's voice barked from across the room. "He's probably parched from that draught, just like you were."

Emma sat back reluctantly, somehow looking apologetic and mutinous at the same time. Still, she obeyed her elder and retrieved a glass of water with a straw, something Killian was grateful for as she helped him sit up. He drank the whole glass and could have gone for more, but his injury started to complain at being stretched out and he lay back with some irritation. "Thank you, love," he said.

"Granny said you woke up before," she said. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been shot," he admitted, noting her unamused frown. "Better than I did before, though. Less... immobile."

"You can feel all your limbs though? Fingers and toes accounted for?" Emma pressed.

He wiggled his toes and flexed his sole hand. "Four fingers, one thumb, and ten toes in working order. Where's the other one?"

Emma took his offered arm, gently massaging the scars that littered the blunted end of it. While it didn't pain him at the moment, Killian appreciated the little gesture. "We put it aside, you know how you complain when it's on for too long. And I didn't... I didn't know how long you'd be..."

Her eyes were glassy and he winced a little as he reached over and patted her knee. "I'm fine, Emma."

"But you're not," she said, her voice breaking a little. "You don't-you didn't see-"

A tear slipped down her cheek and as much as his injury screamed at him for doing so, Killian leaned forward enough to reach up and wipe it away. "Come down here, love, let me hold you so I don't rip out Granny Lucas' fine stitching."

Granny snorted, overhearing him from her position at the table across the room. He surmised at this point that this small bed had been set up in the living room of her small abode. Granny herself seemed to be working on mixing medicines - if his nose told him correctly, anyway - in order to be in reach if something went wrong and to keep herself busy. He found himself wondering how many patients threw themselves on her mercy after mishaps during the full moon - and how often something as serious as his own injury darkened her doorstep. "You rip the stitches, you get to stay here another night," she said. "I was going to be nice and let you finish recovering at home."

"How long has it been?" Killian asked.

"We brought you here yesterday at dawn," Emma said. "Granny fixed you up and then made me sleep. She said she gave you enough dose to sleep through the night - you woke up yesterday afternoon - but you must have needed the rest because it's after four." She must have seen something on his face because she added, "I already talked to Liam, he's taken over things where he can from London. He's flying out here tomorrow."

Killian groaned. "Bloody stubborn arse can't go a day without micromanaging me."

Emma poked him in the side. "Yeah, well, your employees were already notified that you'd been seriously injured, so to keep the whole 'hey I'm a werewolf with super crazy healing abilities' story secret, someone has to take over for a while. You're stuck at home for a few days at least."

"With you?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Easy, you two," Granny said. "Save that for when I'm not around."

Emma buried her very red face in his shoulder and he grinned. "Sorry, Lady Lucas."

She made a noise of disbelief, then the door opened. "Hey, Granny," Ruby said. "Are they-oh, they're awake."

Emma got to her feet. "Hey, thanks for bringing my car over."

"No problem. How is he?"

"I'm fine, Ruby, thanks for asking me directly," Killian said loudly.

She came into view, her grin only mildly terrifying. "Still flat on your back though. You ready to go home?"

They helped him up; he was dressed in some old, comfortable clothes that weren't his, and he didn't recognize the scent as anything other than something that had been in Granny's possession for a long time. Emma got his prosthetic attached again, and helped him into a light jacket against the fall chill. Granny waved off his thanks as they left, Killian slung between both Emma and Ruby; he tried to protest that he was fine without their help, he could walk, but his protests fell on deaf ears.

Before they left, Granny made them promise to bring her more of those mushrooms grown at Which Witch and Whatsits, the apothecary in their neighborhood, for ner next batch of medicines. "That Alice knows what she's doing with medicinal fungi."

"Something I do not want to consider being used on me," Killian grumbled as he was walked out to the Bug.

"Only because you're Alice's favorite test subject," Ruby said.

"Please don't phrase it like that, she almost succeeded in turning me into a frog that one time."

"She just wanted to see if Emma could kiss you back to normal!"

He winced as he got into the tiny car, as ever wishing his dearest would consider parting with this old contraption and getting something that would fit them both comfortably, but he knew how attached she was to the thing and could easily guess how she might react to such a suggestion. Ruby ruffled his hair affectionately and closed the door for him as Emma got into the driver's seat. She cranked the engine and he winced again, hearing the gears grind as they tried to turn over and her mumbled curses as it tried and tried and finally turned over. She sighed with some satisfaction and they rumbled on down the road to their apartment.

 _Their_ apartment.

* * *

" _Seriously, this is all you have?" she asked, looking at his single suitcase with no small amount of shock._

 _At least it wasn't a carry-on._

 _She hadn't even let him in to the apartment yet; he was standing in the hall, his suit jacket over one arm and his suitcase handle in hand. He looked almost offended. "My suits need to be dry-cleaned, so I can wear them a few times before sending them out. Everything else can be laundered at the hotel, and I don't remember you complaining about the lack of clothing I wear to bed-"_

" _Stop." She pinched the bridge of her nose. She knew there was a price point difference between living in greater Boston and living in London - but living in a hotel, using dry-cleaning on a regular basis, and using the hotel laundry service? "Just-just stop talking," she said._ Especially about being naked where all my neighbors can hear. " _We are going to Target and you're going to get things that aren't tailored or require dry-cleaning, and you're going to stop giving me a financial aneurysm."_

* * *

She didn't say anything on the drive and he wondered at that; he'd attempted to assuage her worry earlier by teasing her, and Granny had put a stop to that, but even if he wasn't able to smell the slightly sour scent of fear rolling off her, the whiteness of her knuckles on the steering wheel or the rigid way she held herself would tell him she felt deeply uneasy. "Emma-"

"Don't," she interrupted. She swallowed. "We'll talk when we get home."

His memory between when he'd been shot and when he woke up this afternoon was fuzzy at best, but he remembered the desperate way she'd tried to reassure herself that they were safe and they needed to go home. Doubtless she still felt exposed, even in the car - possibly even at Granny's - and she'd relax once they reached the safety of their 'den'.

However, as soon as they got into the apartment, she immediately led him to the bedroom. "Bed. Now. You need to rest, especially if Liam's coming. I don't want him to think I'm not taking care of you."

Ordinarily, he'd make a joke about how she was so insistent on getting him into bed, but the stern set of her brow told him such a joke would be unwelcome. "Darling, I've been shot, operated on, and out cold for the last 36 hours. At least allow me to shower and put on my own clothes and feel _somewhat_ human before you confine me to the bedroom."

"Killian. You're already somewhat human."

He grinned at her cheek, annoyed as she was with him. "Regardless. I feel as if your country's going to invade my hair for oil if I don't wash it out." She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You could give me a sponge bath if you're that concerned," he said, raising an eyebrow, and her mouth worked for a long moment as she tried to decide how she felt about that. "I'll be quick, love, I just want to rinse."

She huffed, the slump of her shoulders signaling that she wasn't happy about giving in. "Fine. Don't strain yourself, and _don't_ rip your stitches. You should be fine to get them wet but just don't-"

" _Emma_. How much trouble can I get into during one shower?"

Her cheeks flushed, because she knew exactly how much trouble he could get both of them into, and without another word she went to the bedroom, leaving him to shrug out of his borrowed clothes and step into the bathroom.

He did his best to keep his injury out of the water, but he was only part-human, after all, and couldn't quite protect his entire back from the spray. He scrubbed the grime off his body and out of his hair twice before he felt better, then turned off the water. He used Emma's towel, the scent of her in every fiber of the material helping him to feel more grounded. There was nothing quite like being wrapped in the scent of your mate - even if that's not what they were in the traditional sense of things, his wolf's brain associated the two ideas together enough that Killian often had to remind himself that they were _not_ , in fact, a true mated pair.

He sighed; remembering that fact always made his heart pang wistfully. Asking Emma to be his, truly his, was the number one thing on his to-do list, but it only took one glimpse of the scars littering his arm to make him cautious. He'd been a young, stupid pup when he'd tried to challenge Gold for Milah all those years ago, with more heart than sense; he knew now that being allowed to live, beating him and taking his hand for the insult, had been probably the only stroke of mercy Gold had ever granted anyone in his life, the mad old bastard.

And he knew now that if Milah truly had wanted to leave, she would have broken the mate-bond, alpha or not.

Instead, she'd let him preen and strut like a peacock, only to stand by and watch him be beaten down, humiliated, and cast out of his family.

Emma wasn't Milah, Killian knew this very well. She'd had her heart broken just as he had - worse, even, the loss of a litter compounded by a broken mate-bond. Emma understood him in ways that no one else could, cared for him, laughed with him, _loved_ him. They hadn't even known each other a full year but he felt like it was longer, like two old souls finding one another after centuries apart and recognizing each other immediately.

He was almost positive she wouldn't reject him if he asked.

Almost.

He shook his head in an attempt to clear out such thoughts, and turned a little to inspect his injury for himself in the mirror. The black stitching stood out against the pale expanse of his back, even with how hairy he was; really, for all the spot ached like he'd been sliced in two, it really was a small wound, probably two inches at most. Most of the cut had probably been from Granny, giving herself enough room to get the bullet out. He'd have a scar for sure, but what was one more if it meant he was still alive?

He toweled off his hair one more time before hanging it up, eager to get into his own bed - if using her towel helped put Killian at ease, wrapping himself in the sheets and quilt that positively reeked of Emma would send him straight to sleep, no magic potions or salves necessary. Thinking about the possibility of bonding with her had only heightened his near-constant need to be near her. It was like a low hum in the back of his mind, always there, always urging him to seek her out at every opportunity.

She wasn't in the bedroom when he entered - he could hear her talking in a low voice in the kitchen, likely a phone call - and so he made do with falling into bed, burrowing under their blankets and pressing his face against her pillow, inhaling deeply. Any lingering unease faded as her scent surrounded him, undertones of their previous couplings seeped into every fiber of the sheets and even the mattress underneath.

 _Home. Den. Safe._

Not even the scent of food could rouse him from his cocoon, though his stomach begged to differ. The bed dipped slightly as Emma sat on it, her fingers gently combing through his still-damp hair. "Hey," she said quietly. "I have some food and more salve. You should eat before you go back to sleep."

He grumbled, burrowing under the blankets, and he heard her sigh with exasperation. He moved, reaching out from the sides to wrap his arms around her waist and this time she chuckled as he pulled her towards him. "Mine," he mumbled against her thigh.

His skin cooled immediately when she pushed the blankets back on him. "Alright, possessive. Eat first, then you can maul me around." He looked up and saw that she immediately regretted her choice of words. "Not-"

"Ah, Swan, you already said it."

"Oh for God's sake."

Killian grinned and she looked up helplessly. "We are very late for a scheduled meeting, darling." He caught the unease in her scent and his grin faded. "Emma?"

"Eat, please," she said softly, reaching for a bowl she'd brought for him.

He sat up and did as she asked; they were low on groceries, he remembered, and his dear one was hardly a cook, so he didn't say a word about the warmed up can of soup she'd presented him with. While he ate, she rubbed more salve on his wound, covering it with some bandages. When he'd eaten and drank enough of the bottle of water she'd brought to satisfy her, she left briefly to take it all back to the kitchen and returned, quickly changing into pajamas and climbing into bed next to him. "Didn't even bother with pants, huh?" she asked, settling herself next to him.

"I'm starting to think I should have," he said, and caught the brief spike of guilt in her scent.

"No-no, just… Be comfortable. I'm sorry, I-"

"Emma," he said softly. He could feel her growing distress and it set him on edge when she was upset. "Please, love, just talk to me. You've been jumpy and dancing around me since I woke up. I thought you'd feel better when we got home, but I feel like it's getting worse."

A wave of salt reached his nose - bloody hell, she _never_ cried. "Hey, hey, hey, what is it?" he asked, turning to take her fully in his arms. "Emma, talk to me."

"You didn't see it!" she burst out. She pushed on his chest, putting distance between them, and it hurt to see her like this. "You just collapsed, Killian, I thought you were dead or dying until we got you to Granny's - and even before then, I didn't know if anyone else was nearby to help. I didn't know if I could get you there by myself, not in the state I was in."

Killian didn't say anything, watching her carefully as words spilled from her, all the words she'd kept in that day instead of easing them out over the course of the afternoon. "It was just dumb luck Ruby and Dorothy were nearby, and Dorothy was able to carry you."

"I vaguely remember that," he murmured.

"And then we ran into someone else - I didn't catch his name, but he smelled familiar. I was too worked up to think straight. He helped too; Ruby kind of took charge after a while, seeing you like that…" Emma drifted off, her cheeks thoroughly damp with tears. "I've lost too many people, Killian," she whispered. "I've seen… I just can't lose you too."

"Oh, love," he said softly, and she allowed him to pull her in close. "You don't need to worry about me. I'm a survivor, darling, this is proof enough of that." He held up his blunted wrist. "Hell already tried to take me and found me too difficult to swallow. It chewed on me a bit and spat me back out."

Emma tucked her head under his chin. "I know we have these crazy abilities and you'll be back to normal in a couple of days, but it scared me. And I was already worried after that afternoon when you didn't come home and-"

"Emma, sweet, I will always come home to you."

"You can't know that," she argued. "Not with what's happening out there. The downtown packs are taking too many risks for God only knows what reasons and your offices are too close to all of that for comfort. I don't want to hear that a riot broke out and you were caught in the middle. I don't think I could handle that."

They both fell silent for a long moment. "I don't know what to say," Killian admitted. "I don't have any magic words that will make it better. I don't know if I should apologize for being hurt or for worrying you or what."

"No," she said firmly, reaching up and swiping the tear tracks from her cheeks. "No, don't ever apologize for getting hurt, that wasn't your fault. It was those asshole hunters and I should have listened to my - no. I just… have some issues to work on, I guess. Things I thought I was over."

He pressed his lips to her forehead, his nose resting against her hairline. From the tone in her voice, he surmised she was thinking about her parents, and he didn't begrudge her in the least for having lingering emotions over their untimely deaths. "If you won't let me promise to always come home to you, at least let me promise to come home for as long as I'm able, for as long as you'll have me."

He felt her fingers on his chest, toying with his hair, and he repressed a shiver. "You say that like I won't always want you here," Emma murmured.

He didn't know how to respond to that - he could echo her earlier words, " _you can't know that_ ", but he truly didn't want to be his own devil's advocate. There was that own bit of self-doubt rearing its head again, the part of himself that was hesitant about asking her to mate-bond with him, the drop of self-loathing and fear so poisonous that it easily spread to the rest of him with little urging. "A man can only take so many rebuffs of his advances," he said instead, his tone teasing as he tried to lighten her mood. "It gives him the wrong sort of idea."

" _Killian_ ," she said, exasperation in every syllable. "I just don't want to hurt you more. You were shot and bleeding, and then after we fixed that you unconscious for a day. Now you've been awake for five hours and you've come on to me at least three times."

"Would I if I didn't feel up to it?" he asked. She raised an eyebrow at him, her only response, and he chuckled. There was that imperiousness that Granny had mentioned; she had the bit between her teeth now and as much as he did want her, he was starting to find it more entertaining to tease her about it than actually following through. "I swear it's only for you, love. You put a spell on me that first afternoon."

"It's not that I don't want to," Emma said, and he knew she wasn't lying - he could smell the spikes in her arousal all afternoon. "I just don't want to be the reason something got worse. I'm not rejecting you, I'm trying to protect you."

Killian made a face. He doubted she'd make anything worse if she laid him flat on his back and sat on his face, aside from a bit of breathing adjustments. "Right, because we've all seen plenty of movies where that's worked out exactly as intended."

"Oh fuck off."

"Only for you, as we've established."

" _Killian_."

"Darling, it's not like I'm asking for Cirque du Soleil, I just miss you. I miss you and the sweet embrace of your body," he murmured, lips moving to the shell of her ear. Oh yes, he thought as her scent flared, teasing her was much more entertaining at this point. "You can feel that, right? How I already desire you and we're only discussing possibilities?" His hips rutted against hers, his growing erection completely unencumbered by clothes. "I always desire you, love," he continued, placing a wet kiss just under her ear, reveling in her shiver and the spike in arousal he smelled. "I have such a difficult time not dragging you back to bed every morning when you leave, that pert arse of yours on full display and tormenting me-"

He reached down and squeezed said arse and she giggled. "God, you're insatiable," she muttered, her fingers toying with his chest hair. "Insatiable and a completely underhanded _asshole_ , I can't believe I want to marry you-"

Killian froze and he heard Emma suck in a breath as she realized what she just said. "Emma? Say that again?" he whispered.

She was staring at him again, that wide-eyed, guileless look of hers, only unlike when she'd asked him to move in with her, this was laced with a bit more panic, a bit more fear. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, and he watched her throat move as she swallowed. "I-I think you're supposed to ask," she said softly.

"You brought it up," he said.

"Do you not want to ask me?" He gave her a look and she pressed her lips together in a line. "Right, I -" Emma took a deep breath. "I said I can't believe I want to marry you."

Wherever he was, still in London or on a plane somewhere over the Atlantic, Killian was certain that even Liam could see the smile that stretched out on his lips; it almost hurt to be smiling this much. "That's what I thought you said. I wanted to be sure, because I've been wanting to ask for a very long time."

"Really?" He couldn't compare because he couldn't see his own face, but he felt like Emma's grin matched his own. "God, five minutes ago we're arguing, and now we're talking about getting married-"

Killian didn't let her finish, swooping down and kissing her soundly. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. "I'll marry you the human way, the wolf way, hell, if there's a witchy way to do it, gods be damned I'll do that too. Whatever way you want, love, I'll be by your side."

There were tears in her eyes again, but he hoped these were happy ones. "Okay. Yeah," she said, her giggle mixing with a slight sob. "I feel like it still needs to be asked, though."

He kissed her again, and when they parted, he kept their foreheads pressed together, the words whispered against her lips, "Will you marry me?"

Her reply ghosted along his lips. " _Yes_."


	3. Chapter 3

**A little bit shorter this week, but as they say, it's not the length that matters, it's how you use it. And this satisfies more than a few, ah, _cravings_ you may have had since this started again.**

 **It's smutty. I'm saying it's smutty.**

 **Thanks to distant-rose for clearing this for takeoff and giving me a tasing reprieve after a very exhausting and busy August. Enjoy!**

* * *

As Killian pressed her down against the bed, Emma thought for a moment about the ring her mother had worn every day of her life, the peridot with white sapphires on either side. The ring she'd died wearing, the ring Emma couldn't bear to bury her in, the ring that sat locked away in her safe with her human charm. Her parents had mated in every possible way they could and worn symbols of that love for all their time together, and even after the pain of losing her parents, her first pack, her litter, and her first mate, she'd always harbored some secret hope that someone would love her so much as to bond with her in the same way.

She eased him off of her, answering his questioning look with a secretive smile, and slipped out of bed to the closet; she knelt, moving shoeboxes and old shopping bags out of the way to get to her safe, and opened the lock. On top of a pile of important papers sat two velvet boxes: one held her human charm, and she left that one alone in favor of the other, picking it up and closing the safe before going back to the bed. "I don't know if you had any big ideas or plans or whatever," she started, perching nervously on the edge, "but this was my mother's."

Emma noted the change in Killian's scent, arousal fading as his expression grew serious. She offered him the box and he opened it, an eyebrow going up as he inspected the ring that had been passed down in her father's family for generations. "It's not silver," he noted.

"I never asked what it was," she said. "But my mother wore it, and my grandmother before her, and so on. Dad said it was an heirloom, a tradition for it to be passed on to the firstborn, and if there's any such thing as blue-blooded werewolves, my family's the bluest-blooded."

A corner of his lips went up as he chuckled. "Granny was right." Emma tilted her head. "She said that the children of alphas have certain traits and mannerisms. The daughter of a long line of alpha wolves? I'm starting to see her point."

She held her strength in check when she punched him on the shoulder, but just barely; Killian fell onto his back laughing and wheezing in pain. "Sure, tell me you're all worried about how hurt I was, then injure me some more, I see how it is."

"I hit you on the opposite side of your injury, you're fine. And I never said my grandparents were alphas."

"No, but their sons are. Were. And those traits come from somewhere." As he talked, he gently pried the ring from its box and took her hand. Emma bit her lip to keep herself from tearing up as he slipped the ring onto her finger; she had her mother's deceptively delicate hands, as her father always liked to say, and the ring fit perfectly. "There. Right where it should be," Killian said, looking up at her with heavy-lidded eyes.

Emma stared at her hand, unable to resist twiddling her fingers to watch the stones catch the dim light. "Dad said that when his mother gave him this ring for Mom, she told him that true love follows this ring wherever it goes." It's funny, almost, how she'd never thought to ask her first mate to bond with her in this simple human way. She'd thought that the mate-bond was enough. Two years together, both courting and then mated, and she'd never even _mentioned_ the ring to him in all that time. She glanced up at Killian, looking at him as if she was really seeing him for the first time.

* * *

 _"You're moping," Ruby said, perching on the edge of her desk._

 _"Am not," Emma grumbled._

 _She had no reason to mope; mating season was over, so the overarching stench of heat throughout the city was gone, pairs had been formed, pups were due later that year. She'd gotten her itch_ very _well scratched by the stranger from London who was much less a stranger when he left, and she'd bagged herself several paydays with bounty hunting, so her finances were set for a while. Things were good. Great, even._

 _"Seriously, you smell like a wet dog. That's how moping smells. Wet. Dog," Ruby insisted._

 _Emma glared at her from behind her computer monitor. She would not give her the satisfaction of knowing how often Emma Facebook stalked Killian Jones without actually sending him a friend request - seriously, who left that much information out there without privacy settings? If Ruby knew, she'd crow about it, tell her she was a lovesick puppy, and then ship her off to England before she knew what was happening._

 _She didn't love him. He'd been a good lay, that was all. A very good lay. And now she just... wanted to know what he was up to sometimes._

 _It totally wasn't weird that she knew he went out for drinks every Thursday with his 'mates'. It also wasn't weird how much she'd thought about how English wolves must differentiate between love-mates and friend-mates to fit in with the humans._

 _Everything was fine._

 _"I'm_ not _moping and I_ don't _smell like a wet dog."_

* * *

They'd only known each other for ten months - hell, really, they'd only been _together_ for four months. This was crazy, _she_ was crazy, but the words were out of her mouth before she could even stop them. "I really hope she was right."

A year ago, if someone had looked at her with the kind of intense love and tenderness on their face as Killian did now, she would have run. A year ago she'd wanted nothing more to do with mates or the mating practices that dictated their society - a year ago she'd still been hurting from the scars left by someone who cared less about her and more about what being with her meant for his own status.

A year ago, she hadn't had Killian.

His hand slid up her cheek, his thumb brushing along her lower lip. "I really hope so too," he whispered.

This time she didn't offer any protests when Killian coaxed her into bed with him. He had her astride him in a moment, slipping her camisole off and palming her breast in his hand. She relaxed into his touch as he gently squeezed and then splayed his hand across her chest, nestled between her breasts. She looked down at his hand, tanned against the pale skin of her chest, and wondered what it might look like with a ring to match hers. She brought it up to cup her face, nuzzling against his rough palm, and breathed in his soothing scent spiked with arousal.

"Don't move," she told him, rising up enough to slide her pajama bottoms off and toss them aside.

His breath hitched when she gripped his cock in both hands, gently squeezing and stroking she watched his eyes flutter closed as she made the movement almost continuous, pulling up with one hand and immediately going underneath the other once she reached empty air. "Fuck…" Killian breathed, the tendons on his neck straining as he tried to obey her order to stay still.

Their combined musk made the room heady; when his eyes opened again, she could hardly see any blue. His chest heaved, nostrils flaring, and the way he watched her move her hands to brace against his chest reminded her of a predator tracking his prey.

She raised her hips up again and adjusted her position; moving slowly, she rolled her hips, rubbing her dripping core along the length of his cock. The hard ridge of him caught her clit with every pass, warming her blood as much as his unwavering predatory gaze. She took his hand again and placed it on her chest. "Touch me," she told him.

She held his eyes with her own, continuing the slow roll of her hips while his hand traveled a lazy path between her breasts and down her stomach. His thumb brushed her curls, teasing, then his hand smoothed across her thigh. She let her head fall back, closing her eyes and enjoying his slow exploration of her body; small waves of pleasure crested and fell as she continued to undulate over his cock, slowly pushing her closer to that peak. But Emma wasn't in a hurry, not right now. She didn't want to hurt him, didn't want this to end too quickly. She just wanted to live in this moment where it was just Emma and Killian and damn the world outside of their little bubble of pleasure.

When she finally allowed him to enter her body, he hissed, exhaling slowly as she sank down onto him. His knees rose behind her, feet planted on the bed, and allowed him to thrust up and match her movements. Emma fell forward, pressing her lips to his and bracing her arms on either side of his head as she rose and fell faster, starting a slow chase to that wonderful high. As he met her stroke for stroke, her baser instincts clamored to take hold - she wanted to _mark_ and _bite_ and _claim_ , remind him that he was hers and show everyone that he was taken. She must have made a sound, because his voice sounded hoarsely in her ear, "Let go, sweetheart. Take me."

"Don't want to hurt you-"

"You could never hurt me."

Her teeth sank into the juncture of his neck and he cried out - not from pain but from pleasure. His arms went around her, holding her tight against his chest. The days preceding and the days that followed the full moon left everyone's blood running hot and it manifested in increased tensions, both physical and sexual. Killian's persistent hitting on her and desires were proof of that - and Emma's need to mark and claim him.

They moved faster, bodies writhing together as they connected again and again, the hot slide of him inside of her making her burn. She didn't scratch at him like she normally did but she bit wherever she could: his neck, his shoulders, his arms, even along his jaw. Every bite was soothed by her tongue and he whimpered under her touch, squeezing her tighter against him. His head moved and his hand moved and she found herself pressed up against his lips. His teeth sank into her lip, sucking it into his mouth and she whined, the coil inside winding tighter and tighter-

She shattered, shuddering in his arms as she came, and she felt Killian fucking her through it for just a few moments more before he stilled and spilled himself inside her. The kiss turned languid and lazy, his cock still buried inside of her, but Emma didn't care. After the terrifying events of the last 36 hours, she wanted to keep him as close as she could for as long as she could.

He rolled them onto their sides, touching her wherever he could, her leg wrapping up and around his hip. His hips canted up into hers and she groaned, still sensitive. "What if I…" He rolled them again, pinning her under him, rutting against her easily. "What if I made you come again?" he asked against her lips.

"How-" She gasped, her toes curling as he continued the gentle rut. Fucking _hell_ , there was no way he could still be hard. "How in the hell-"

"You said yes," he murmured, picking up the pace and easing her other leg up over his hips. "You said yes, and we're both alive after that hell of a moon, and I'll be damned if I don't make the most of it."

Emma cried out when his hips snapped into hers. This wasn't like when she was in heat - then, her body was primed and ready constantly, coming down quickly from each high so she could handle the relentless need to fuck for a week straight. No, this was overwhelming, her body overstimulated as he thrust into her body again and again; she thought she was going to unravel at the seams, tingling all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes, but he abruptly pulled out of her and untangled his body from hers. She was about to ask what the _hell_ he thought he was doing, building her up like that and doing nothing about it, but then he scooted back and settled between her thighs. He licked a long stripe up her core, humming at the taste of their mixed essences, and Emma forgot the question she'd wanted to ask.

She quivered under his ministrations, her limbs turning completely to jelly as he licked and kissed and nipped at her center. He eased her thighs over his shoulders and his blunted arm kept her hips still while his fingers toyed with and slid inside her entrance. She didn't remember actually coming, just a feeling of immense pressure building inside of her and breaking all at once, rendering her incoherent for what felt like hours after.

She came to only when she heard Killian groan as he got back up to the pillows. "You hurt yourself," she mumbled, her eyes still closed and her thighs still quivering.

"I didn't," he retorted and she let her head fall to the side, cracking open an eye to watch him stretch out on his stomach, his arms pulling the pillow under his head more comfortably. "Just a bit sore, that's all."

"Killian."

He looked at her with one eye. "I swear, love, I'm not turning all alpha male on you."

Rolling over with immense difficulty - seriously, her legs were not cooperating, and her sex was definitely protesting any kind of movement - Emma leaned forward and nuzzled his cheek. He hummed in content at her gesture of affection, and then she shifted, gently biting on his ear and tugging. He made a little whining noise and she nuzzled him again. "We're going to have to air the apartment out before Liam gets here," she said, laying back down with a sigh.

"Sod Liam, he can kip in a hotel."

She rolled her eyes. "He's already staying in a hotel. Even just coming over he's going to say something about the smell."

Killian sounded absolutely pitiful. "I like the way our apartment smells."

She breathed in, reminding herself of the layers of scents drifting around the apartment. It smelled like they needed to take out the trash in the kitchen, like the soap Killian had just used, and the lingering humidity in the air from the shower. It smelled like whatever had been stuck to the burner on the stove when she'd made the soup, which also lingered in the air, the ointment she'd put on his back, and the ever-present, almost overpowering scent of two people who couldn't stop jumping each other's bones at every chance they got.

It smelled like home.

She smiled. "I do too. I just think we should be considerate-"

"It's Liam, love, we don't need to be considerate for family."

She propped her head up on her hand. "You do know this is actually the first time I'm meeting him, right? You remember that I don't know him, not really? And I might want to make a good first impression on the man who's going to be my brother-in-law?"

The corner of his mouth that she could see ticked up, teeth revealed by his grin. "You said yes," he said, almost to himself.

Emma rolled her eyes, though she smiled and nudged him to move so she could curl up next to him. She really should go clean herself, but cuddling sounded nicer than getting up. "You have a one-track mind today," she told him.

He nudged her nose with his, bumping their foreheads together. "I could claim you," he murmured. "Claim you tonight and then Liam wouldn't be able say a damn thing about the smell."

He nosed along her jawline, nipping at her pulse. His lips trailed a path down to where, one day in the very near future, she'd allow him to mark her - permanently. "Nng- _Killian_ -we should wait," she said breathlessly, letting her head fall back. "Killian stop."

He stilled, sighing a little. His breath felt warm on her neck, and then his lips as he pressed one last kiss there before lifting his head up. "You want to wait?"

She nodded. Saying it out loud almost felt silly, but they needed to talk about it. "I feel like we should do it all at once."

His teeth flashed. "Ah, Swan. Quite the exhibitionist, aren't we?"

"Shut up," she growled, even as he leaned down to tickle her collarbones with his scruff. "I mean like on the same day. Like, I know it's kind of corny, but the whole wedding night thing. Humans just do it for their own weird reasons, but us? We're bound together by human law _and_ pack law then."

He paused, considering her words. "You said that like you've had this in mind for a while, love. Did you have a day in mind?"

She shrugged, toying with his hair. She'd been thinking about it, sure, but not until today did she think he was already thinking about it too. "No, not yet. Well," she amended, "I know it's soon, but I think I'd prefer we do all of this before the next mating season. It's not as… _irritating_ for mated couples."

Killian barked a laugh. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was irritating."

"No, not you, just the whole-oh fuck off, stop teasing me."

He grinned. Sometimes she wondered if he understood just how much it meant to her that he wasn't bothered about the fact that she'd been mated before; a lot of males didn't care, but that lack of care often came with a weight of expectations Emma hated to try and live up to. Or, worse, those who cared and then tried to treat her like glass; yes, breaking a mate-bond hurt both parties, but after a few days, even the slighted party could recover enough to go back to their regular lives - physically, at least.

Killian didn't care, because he understood what it meant to have loved and lost before. Or maybe it was more that Killian did care, and he trusted her to let him know where her boundaries and limits were when it came to opening her heart to someone again. Either way, he accepted the fact that she had more expertise in this area than he did, and she loved that he never seemed put out when she mentioned her past in passing.

"I know, love, it's not your favorite time of year," Killian said, bringing her back to the present. "But if that's what you want, we can have our ceremony - _ceremonies_ \- before the year is out, in case you bloom early again."

She almost groaned at the thought, dreading that mating season was so close. She rarely went into heat so early in the year, normally peaking sometime in March or April, but occasionally her body liked to throw her a curveball and watch her deal with it. Going into season without a mate-bond was a miserable experience, a constant itch to seek out available mates and rut into exhaustion. Some years she'd had multiple partners, but until recently she'd only locked herself up for as long as possible and used her toys to try and satisfy that itch.

Having a mate meant less of an itch or a drive to _seek_ and mate; really, having a mate during the season could be a wonderful bonding experience - being locked up in your house and naked with someone for days on end could really make or break a couple. But it didn't cancel out the fact that her body was in charge and all she could do was obey its commands or suffer when she refused. "We can talk over it more later," she said. "There's still some time. We don't have to decide anything just yet."

"Except that you said yes."

Emma smiled. "Except that I did say yes. And we _are_ airing out the apartment a little," she added, going back to her original point. "Engaged or not, we should at least _pretend_ that we do other things than fuck each other silly." He stuck out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "You're lucky I'm going to let you leave the bed at all tomorrow, because you're definitely not going out to meet Liam anywhere."

Killian rolled them again and Emma giggled. "I don't know, love," he said idly, and she felt the hard length of him already pressed against her thigh once more. "I could certainly be _convinced_ to stay in bed…"


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you everyone for continuing to read and support this fic!**

 **A warning for this week, the second flashback is about how Emma lost her first litter - a miscarriage. If that will bother you, it's very short so it's easy to pass over that set of italics. Otherwise, enjoy the update!**

* * *

The bed was empty when he awoke, though a rational person would hardly call it 'awake'. He lingered on the fringes of consciousness until he was sure he wouldn't fall asleep again, then rolled over and hugged Emma's pillow. He breathed in her scent as his sluggish brain pieced together the world around him.

According to the clock on the nightstand, it was almost noon - which explained why Emma was up and out of bed. His back ached something fierce, which explained why he'd slept so long. And the frosty tinge in the air meant she'd made good on her promise to air out the apartment.

Killian sat up with a groan, rubbing his eyes, and the noise must have alerted Emma because she popped her head in the door. "Morning," she said. "How do you feel?"

"Bloody exhausted," he admitted. "We weren't up that late."

She smiled in that way that meant she was holding back an 'I told you so' and came to perch on the bed. While she talked, she made him lean forward so she could remove his bandage. "No, but in all the excitement of yesterday, _someone_ forgot that he'd been seriously injured and overexerted himself. You didn't even budge when I got up this morning, and even if I get up to pee you always move to keep me in bed with you."

He yawned wide enough that his jaw cracked. "Fuck - I feel as if I've been pounded with mallets."

"Next time I tell you not to hurt yourself, you'll listen."

"You can just say 'I told you so', love."

"No," she said, getting up. "I'll just think it real loud. Go take a shower, it'll help you wake up."

He snorted and moved to get up. His legs weren't cooperating much and he struggled to find comfortable clothes - sod Liam, he'd wear pajamas if he wanted to. He showered quickly, or as quickly as his body would allow, and while he wasn't fully awake when he got out, he still felt better than he would have otherwise.

Emma had started a pot of coffee while he showered. Leaving his prosthetic in the bedroom, he followed his nose out to the kitchen, where she also had a box from the bakery down the street. "Please tell me there's something not covered in sugar and glaze in there," he said, making a face; his dearest had a sweet tooth and that much sugar tended to upset his stomach.

"Sit," she told him, pouring him a mug of coffee and sliding it over to him. "I did get some croissants for you, don't worry."

He watched her putter around, wiping down the countertops that already looked spotless, putting things away for the sake of it, rearranging old magazines and books and fluffing the pillows in the living room. "Darling, you're nervous enough to make _me_ nervous," he said, picking apart a _pain au chocolat_. "And Liam's _my_ brother."

She paused momentarily, then smoothed a blanket over the back of the couch before going to close the windows. "I just want to make a good impression," she muttered, going back into the kitchen.

Killian managed to get her to sit down next to him when she came out with a mug of cocoa. "It'll be fine," he said, pushing the box of pastries towards her. "And if it's not fine, I'll break Liam's nose for you."

She snorted at that and picked out a bear claw, eating it with a distant look in her eye. They continued eating in silence until a knock at the door startled them out of their quiet reverie. Emma looked at him with barely-concealed panic before getting up to answer it. Killian started to get up as well, but, frustratingly, found it more difficult to get up now than it had been to get out of bed.

Emma opened the door and Killian heard Liam say, "We finally meet."

Killian smiled to himself as Liam - just as he knew he would - enveloped Emma in a bear-hug. Killian shuffled over to the entryway and caught his brother's eye as he let her go. "Brother."

Emma moved out of the way just in time before they embraced. Liam seemed to be aware of where his wound was, because where Killian slapped his brother on the back in greeting, the same gesture was not returned to him. "Just where do you get off by getting yourself hurt, Killian?" Liam asked when they parted.

He shrugged. He leaned against the wall and tried to make it look nonchalant, and not what it really was: he really was bloody exhausted. "Well, it's coyote hunting season, so maybe they just thought there were coyote out."

The last time Liam had looked so exasperated was probably when Killian was fifteen and pestering him about when he'd make his first shift.

* * *

 _Much as he tried to hide it, Killian couldn't keep the glum expression off his face. He batted around a few rocks with an old splintered off piece of wood, trying to keep himself occupied outside old Mrs. Haskins' place. The littles were annoying him but he wasn't allowed to leave yet — which was the stupidest thing ever, he was fifteen, he could look after himself. But no, he wasn't considered an adult of the pack yet, just another pup, so every month he went without fail to one of the pack elders and sat around with the others too little or too old to make the monthly change. But while he couldn't leave until Liam picked him up, nothing was stopping him from getting away from everyone, so he sat on the front steps of the old townhouse and waited._

 _Liam would probably say he was sulking, but how could he do anything else? There was something wrong with him, last night just proved it and not even Liam could do anything to fix it._

" _Little brother, why do you look like England's just lost the final at the World Cup?"_

 _Killian looked up as Liam strolled down the street, hands tucked into his pockets and not at all looking like he just spent the night running with the pack. "Nothing," Killian muttered._

" _Killian."_

 _He shook his head and went back to his rocks. Liam sighed and muttered something about checking in with Mrs. Haskins. A few minutes later they were ambling back to the council estate, London beginning to wake up around them with morning deliveries, corner shops opening their grates, and early joggers and dog walkers. "Why don't you try telling me what's really wrong, brother," Liam said as they rounded the corner towards home._

 _Killian debated not saying anything. It was dumb. He knew it was dumb, Liam would know it was dumb, it wasn't worth it. But then Liam nudged him on the shoulder and his resolve broke. "Cullen and Michael didn't come last night," Killian said quietly. "I'm the oldest one left."_

" _Ah."_

" _Liam, what if something's wrong with me? What if I never change - or if I can't? Mum and Dad were werewolves, but maybe we have a human ancestor and I got their stupid human genes instead?"_

 _Liam's head fell back with an enormous sigh. "Killian, we don't have any human ancestors."_

" _But-"_

 _Killian flinched as Liam lightly boxed him on the ear. "Don't be a git. If you weren't a werewolf, we'd know." They stopped on the corner and Liam looked down the street. "Tell me what you smell."_

 _Killian looked where his brother did, sniffing cautiously. "The bakery's making up fresh dough, the bin man's late, and -" An unfamiliar scent hit his nose as Liam stepped in Killian's way. He inhaled, then realized what it was. "Brother! You were with a_ girl _last night?!"_

 _Liam reached to box his ears again and Killian ducked out of the way. "You nosy little-"_

" _You_ told _me to!"_

 _Liam got him in a headlock, messing up his hair. "Well, that settles that, then. You're just a late bloomer, lad, your time will come when it comes."_

* * *

He didn't think Liam would box his ears this time, but it was a close thing. "The healer should have checked your brains while they were at it," Liam said. "We're much larger than any coyote - even normal wolves outsize them."

Killian caught Emma eyeing him and tilted his head in a question. "Let's move this into the living room," she said, her gaze flicking to how he was holding himself up on the wall. He suppressed a smile - nothing got past his Swan. "Killian should be resting anyway and we can all be more comfortable. Do you want any coffee, Liam?"

While they discussed beverages, Killian went to go claim a comfortable spot on the couch. Emma had more pillows than frankly anyone ever should, but in this case he was grateful to have a soft incline to rest against as he all but collapsed on the couch. Liam followed, carrying Killian's mug. "I figured the cocoa wasn't yours," he said, handing it over. "Unless you've truly gone American."

"No," Killian said, taking a sip before setting it aside. "Emma's been attempting to corrupt me with all the sweets she keeps around, but she has yet to succeed."

Liam smiled. "I couldn't help but notice something else succeeded." At Killian's questioning look, he said, "The ring on her finger."

There was a spot under Killian's ear that always itched whenever he became flustered; he reached up to rub it and Liam's smile widened into a grin. "Ah," Killian said, looking down. "That happened… rather quickly, I admit, but we agreed to make things official last night. That is, we agreed last night that on a future date we would-"

"Relax, brother, I'm not going to lecture you," Liam said. "You mooned after her for months, I'm the one who convinced you to come over here and give it a go, did I not?"

"You did."

"To which I'm very grateful," Emma said, coming into the room with a mug for Liam and her own. "I know things are moving fast, but I hope we'll have your blessing," she added as she sat down.

"I know quite a few elders who would argue that's part of the point of mating season," he said with a smile, "but rest assured that you have my blessing. And my congratulations to the both of you."

Killian very much wanted to get up to hug his brother, but his body had decided it had had quite enough movement for now, thank you very much, and so he settled for a firm handclasp. Emma took care of the hugging. "Now, as for you," Liam said as they sat back down. "Are you certain it wasn't a silver bullet? There's no reason I can think that you're so… immobile."

Emma made a noise that sounded like a laugh, but she covered it by taking a sip of her cocoa. "No, we checked. All of us could handle it once Granny removed the thing. He just overexerted himself yesterday."

Undoubtedly Liam could still smell what that meant, but tactfully didn't comment on it. "Still. I've been hearing things from this side of the pond about some anti-human movements. It wouldn't surprise me if things have spread enough that the humans have heard and start fighting back. Maybe not this moon, but the next… who knows?"

Emma looked pained. "God, that bullshit made it all the way over to England?"

"Well, it's sort of hard to ignore, particularly when your crews are all made up of magical folk. They hear all sorts of things from every community. It's quite a useful way to keep in the know, really."

It was useful, Killian agreed, but wading through the complaints their employees could lodge against each other was tiresome. They _asked_ in the interview process if a vampire could work alongside Fae, or anyone could handle working with a werewolf on a ship during the full moon, but apparently once at sea all promises of good behavior were long forgotten. "We could ask Alice," he said. "We have to see her anyway, and Robin's got her foot in both the magical and human worlds. She'd be the one to know if it's spread to the uninitiated."

"Or she'd know if it's those 'in the know' are deciding to fight back," Liam added.

Emma held up her hands. "Wait, you're not serious. You know it's _Regina_ who started talking about all of that, and if anyone is just looking to stir up blood, it's her. She's got her hands full with all those turf wars she's starting right now, but I bet anything all that talk stemmed from the fact that she just doesn't want any non-werewolves in the North End."

Killian looked at her sidelong, taking in the pinch of her lips and the way her cheeks paled; it wasn't fear that made her look like that, no, it was anger. Emma had rightfully never forgiven Regina for murdering her parents and taking control of the North End pack. "So it's a real estate ploy?" he asked.

"Not the way we're hearing it," Liam muttered into his mug.

"I wouldn't doubt it," Emma said. " _If_ we talk to Alice and Robin we can find out if any other groups are being moved out of the area - either by force or just because they're getting uncomfortable with how rowdy the pack's getting. But Regina's not an idiot, she can't just go spouting off any anti-human rhetoric she wants and not blow the cover of _everyone_ in the magical community. I don't know what you've been hearing, Liam, but you know how gossip spreads and gets blown out of proportion."

He looked chagrined for a moment, then nodded. "You're right. But there's no smoke without any fire."

Emma's cheeks grew paler and Killian held up his hand. "Let's just table it as Regina stirring up more trouble in her section of the city and our crews are a bunch of gossips. May we move on to a more pleasant topic of conversation?"

Emma caught his eye and smiled gratefully; she hated any reminder of her past and what Regina had done to her family. The conversation turned back to their engagement and the matter of Killian's injury was left alone.

* * *

Granny's words turned out to be prophetic: Emma made Killian stay home for a week while Liam took care of things at the office. After the first few days - and after Killian was able to move around without exhausting himself just by going into the next room - he managed to convince her to stop fussing over him and return to work. It wasn't as if he didn't enjoy her company, but he knew how her boss felt about how much time off Emma could take at once and she needed to save that up for when mating season rolled around.

And their honeymoon.

They managed to keep their engagement quiet for that first few days, but after Emma returned to work and couldn't hide it any longer, Ruby arrived at their apartment that night in a whirlwind of wedding plans and half-made seating charts. Liam, joining them for dinner, watched in amusement as Ruby bowled both Emma and Killian over with an impassioned speech about pack politics and who _needed_ to be invited and how there was no way in hell the niece of the alpha could get away with a quick legal ceremony at the courthouse. "It's not like it's every day that one of us does the human thing anyway," she added. "You've gotta let us throw you a party to remember."

"She reminds me of Anna," Liam said quietly while Ruby and Emma went over a list of event halls and who could schedule something so last-minute. "Only Anna wasn't half as terrifying when she found out Elsa and I were to be mated."

"You and Elsa stuck to the traditional way of things," Killian said. "Anna just wanted to throw a party for it because that's how Anna is."

Liam smiled and his hand drifted up to his neck, where his mate-mark was hidden under the collar of his shirt. Quite frankly, Killian was surprised Elsa hadn't come along with Liam, the two were almost as inseparable as he and Emma were. But to hear Liam tell it, Elsa had her hands full with the operation of her brewery and didn't feel she could leave it for even a week. "True. Remind me to work something out with her to stock your bar for the reception. She might even give you a friends and family discount."

Killian snorted, but made a mental note to tell Emma; his sister-in-law specialized in brews that could knock even a golem on his arse. They'd save a small fortune just in supplying alcohol that was stronger than 6%.

By the time Liam was set to leave, Killian was back on his feet (for the most part; he would be happy to be sitting in his office for most of the day) and Ruby had somehow sweet-talked an amazing deal at an estate in western Massachusetts for a wedding just a few days before Christmas. "Don't be surprised if my sister-in-law shows up here in a few days," Liam said as he stopped by to say goodbye on his way to the airport. "The moment I say 'wedding', she'll be booking a flight."

"We might need the help," Emma admitted.

Killian agreed, though he wouldn't say it out loud. Who knew so many decisions needed to be made for a wedding? "We'll look for a redheaded whirlwind," he promised, and the brothers embraced.

"Elsa and I will see you in December," Liam said as he left.

As Killian closed the door, Emma slumped against the wall. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "That wasn't too bad, was it?"

"Liam?" she asked. "No, Liam was fine. I think he likes me, even."

"Trust me, you'd know if he didn't," Killian said drily. "He's not shy about letting someone know when he dislikes them."

She smiled and pushed off the wall, going back to their table, which had been commandeered by Ruby and was now completely covered in wedding plans. "No, Liam wasn't bad. It's… all of this. Which isn't bad, it's just… It's stressful. And I didn't realize just how stressful it would be, or else I wouldn't have asked to have it so soon-"

"Well, darling, I believe the original idea was to have a quick ceremony and be done with it. And that wouldn't have been nearly as stressful."

Emma sat down and buried her face in her hands. "No, and now she's actually roped Uncle James into it and he agrees with her. Apparently there's even a bank account just for this."

His brows furrowed. "Your uncle set aside funds for you to marry? This isn't the eighteenth century, love, I'm not asking for a bride-price."

She snorted and sat up, hands falling into her lap. "No, Mom and Dad…" She swallowed and he saw how her eyes went glassy. "Mom and Dad set it up. I had a small inheritance when I turned 21 and apparently if I never married the human way I'd just get this money when I had my first litter."

* * *

 _Pain._

 _She hurt all over - that wasn't right, no, she_ burned _all over. There were people talking around her urgently, the vague sensation of cold pressed against her forehead. Her body seized and she felt something pass from inside her - no,_ no _, it was too early, no it couldn't be, no, not her pups,_ no _-_

 _The burning feeling increased, a searing pain on her neck and she cried out, every nerve ending flooded with too much feeling. She just wanted it to stop, wanted to stop feeling and hurting and go back to before all of this, exhaustion and agony twining together in a black pit she couldn't wait to collapse into. Only one thought flitted through her mind before she let the darkness claim her -_

He's gone.

* * *

His heart broke when the scent of salt hit his nose, just before a tear slid down her cheek. He went to her, pulling her into his arms and holding her close. "Emma, if this is all too much, just let me know. I'll fight off Ruby and your uncle single-handedly."

She snorted, dissolving into watery giggles and he smiled. "Was that supposed to be a joke?" she asked.

"Aye, but know that even if I had both hands I could still do it with only one." He pulled back a little and tipped her chin up. "Please, love, is this something you truly want to do?"

He swiped away another tear and she nodded. "It's stressful, but it's also bringing up a lot of memories and feelings I don't want to think about. This - us - is so different from anything I had before, it shouldn't even factor in. It should be happy, it shouldn't be me all down because of everything that happened in the past. But it creeps up on me."

He kissed her forehead again. "It's still part of your past, love. Part of who you are." Killian moved to sit and pulled her into his lap. She smiled and swatted at her cheeks quickly. "Now, then let's work to make this a happy occasion for both of us. Let's make some decisions together - and let's not worry about the cost of things for now, either. I'll pay for the whole bloody thing myself if that's what makes you smile again."

She shook her head, her smile widening. "No, we'll share the cost of it - you're gonna make me have a stroke one of these days otherwise."

"Perish the thought," he said, pressing his lips to her shoulder. "What's first, then?"

She chewed on her lip and he could feel the tension in her body. "Well, a lot of things could be decided if we settled on colors… is it too cheesy to have red so close to Christmas? Like, red and white?"

"Do you want those colors?" he asked. She sighed and he pressed on. "I'm not asking to pass the decision off on you - I'm asking if that's what you want. Forget the fact that it may be a little thematic with the holiday - is that what _you_ want? Even if we waited until March?"

Emma hesitated, then said, "Yes."

"Okay. Then that's what we'll do. I happen to think I look rather dashing in red anyway," Killian said with a cheeky grin. She elbowed him. "Now," he pushed away other color swatches and focused on the reds. "If we want white, then let's go with the more wintery reds to offset it." He tossed a few other colors away. "The cranberry red is lovely. A deep red, offsetting the white in a bit of a romantic way," he paused to kiss her shoulder again, "symbolizing my passion for you… and I suppose there would be plenty of decorating options available for the time of year."

Emma picked up the color swatch. "I like it," she said. "Your _passion_ for me?"

She twisted in his lap to look at him in amusement and he just smiled in return. "Red is a very passionate color, love."

"I know, but you're all poetic about it. I just like red."

She set the swatch aside and pulled forward another set - "Why are there so many shades of _white_?" Killian asked, slightly horrified at all of the options.

"Now you understand why I was about to have a meltdown last night."

"Well these are just ridiculous," he says, picking out all the ones with yellowing tinges to them and flinging them over his shoulder. Then went the greens and oranges and - "I swear most of these are just pastels masquerading as white," he snarled while Emma covered her face in her hands and laughed.

Finally left with things that at least resembled white as he expected it to be, the name of one caught his eye.

According to the tale he'd been told, Emma's mother had been born late in the season, but during the first blizzard of the year. It was bad enough that Emma's grandmother hadn't even been able to leave their home or summon the pack's midwife, going through the whole birthing process with only her mate at her side and whatever instincts she had in what felt right. But the pup had come healthy and whole while snow swirled and fell outside, and from that came her rather unusual name.

Killian picked up the color swatch. "Snow White," he said softly. "For your mother's memory."

Emma's breath hitched and his arm around her waist tightened. She took the swatch from him and picked up the cranberry red, pairing them together. Her throat worked for a few moments and finally she leaned back against him, resting her head against his. "Thank you," she said quietly.

He hummed as he nosed the hair just behind her ear. "We'll do things for your father and my mother as well," he said, his tone just as soft.

"What about your father?" Emma asked.

Killian shook his head. "The less we make an effort to honor that bastard's memory - nevermind."

He generally preferred not to discuss his parents, but particularly because of the disgraceful way his father had died and left himself, his mother, and Liam with his mountain of heretofore unknown debt. His poor mother had worked herself to an early grave to whittle the debt down to a manageable size, one that Liam had finished settling before their business took off. Killian realized he probably should discuss that with Emma before they mated properly, but he didn't wish to add to her emotional burden as of now. "A sad and sordid tale for another time," he said. "For now, we'll settle on honoring our parents who deserve it."

"Okay," Emma said, but she sounded as dubious about his aversion to the topic as he felt about bringing up the subject with her at all.

They made it through quite a bit of the details that night, but where Killian had initially set out to cheer her up in planning their wedding together, he found that his own spirits fell as he remembered just how much of his own family's history he had yet to tell her. That was something that good mates did, right? What if his failure to divulge old family secrets meant he wouldn't be a good mate? It wasn't as if he hadn't told her of his own misdeeds in the past, the sad tale of Milah and how he'd been cast out of his original pack. Just the bigger things, the misdeeds of his father and the whispers that had followed the Jones brothers for years until they'd proven they were not cut from the same cloth of their father.

And besides, there had to be other things in her past that Emma hadn't mentioned yet.

 _This is normal,_ he thought to himself as they decided on the layout of their rather simple invitations. _It's just a bit of cold feet, and it doesn't help that we've only been together a short time. Other mated pairs have joined together on much less than we have now. We'll get to sharing these other parts of ourselves as time goes on._

He hoped they would, anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi.**

 **I'm sorry this took a long time. Post-Big Bang burnout hit, coupled with crazy work stuff, and to be quite honest there were a lot of tricky conversations in this chapter I had to figure out.**

 **We're setting the stage here for pretty much all the conflict to come, there's just one more piece that'll come into play later. Until then, enjoy!**

* * *

Her tongue slid up the length of his cock, swirling around the tip before taking it into her mouth. He shifted in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent under his breath, and she moved slowly, bobbing her head up and down on the tip while pumping the base.

She'd woken up with his morning wood pressing against her thigh - he really did like to curl up with her while he slept - and she really wasn't going to pass up an opportunity when it presented itself. She felt like it was only fair, returning the favor; he liked to wake her with his head between her thighs whenever the mood struck him. One hand slipped down to fondle his balls, her nails lightly scratching along his thighs as she gently squeezed and massaged. She inhaled; his scent was stronger here, marking her every time she took him in, letting anyone with a nose know she was his and he was hers. He twitched under her as she continued to lightly tickle his thighs. He whimpered, mumbling her name as his hips rocked up; she smiled around his cock, taking him in deeper with each pass.

She also felt that waking him with a blowjob was a small thing she could do to show her appreciation for how much he'd taken on when it came to wedding planning in the last few weeks.

Between Killian and Ruby, the whole wedding came together without any fuss; they were an extraordinarily efficient tag team. Ruby wouldn't take 'no' for an answer and Killian could grease the palms of those who might say 'no' anyway. Emma nearly had a heart attack when she realized how much they were spending - in costs _and_ in bribes - but Ruby assured her that she'd negotiated the prices way down from what the initial offers were. And she only had to threaten to call Emma's uncle twice.

Knowing Uncle James, he would have liked nothing more than to be called in as muscle, but it was probably better for everyone that he didn't go around threatening people over something as simple as the cost of a reception hall.

Just a week left and all they had to worry about were the small details.

Killian groaned softly, bringing her back into the moment. She paused a moment, giving her jaw a break while she kept pumping his cock, watching the little furrow between his brows deepen. He was almost awake, she could just tell, but still asleep enough to think he was dreaming this. She smiled to herself, then wrapped her lips around him again and sucked hard. "Emma… _Emma_."

Then his hand found her hair and she knew he was awake; she'd be a little offended if he wasn't at this point. She redoubled her efforts, going down on him like her life depended on it, and was justly rewarded when his grip in her hair tightened and he cried out as his seed shot down her throat. She swallowed and sat back on her haunches with a satisfied smile, watching his chest heave and his hand scrub the last remnants of sleep from his eyes. "Bloody… not that I'm complaining, love, but what was that for?"

"No reason," she said, getting up and stretching her arms up over her head, knowing her shirt was riding up and giving him a little tease.

She caught his eye and smiled again, warmth flooding her chest at the adoring look on his face. "Why don't you come back to bed and I'll show you just how much I appreciated it?" he asked, his voice low and his accent thick from sleep.

She shivered and saw his nostrils flare: the offer was a tempting - and arousing - one, and he knew it, but they had things to get done today. "We're supposed to be at Alice and Robin's by noon, remember?"

Killian sighed. "I was hoping you'd forgotten about that."

Emma rolled her eyes. They'd stopped by the apothecary not long after Liam had left to get Granny's ingredients and to put a bug in Alice and Robin's ears about any anti-human speech from the non-human population. They'd been careful to leave out any details of Regina or the downtown packs so there weren't any witnesses being led, but with both young women being in prime position to hear the gossip from all walks of life Emma thought they'd have heard _something_ after more than a month. "I'd like to have these things checked out before the wedding, so we can spend time together without worrying."

"I know, love." He sat up and scrubbed his face again. "I just… I have a bad feeling, that's all. And not in regards to Alice's insistence on allowing her to pet me when we've shifted."

She smiled slightly; Alice had a peculiar way of looking at life, and one of her many quirks was finding werewolves to be completely harmless, giant dogs. "I don't like it either," she said softly. "But better to know and be able to prepare than get caught off-guard again."

His hand drifted almost unconsciously to rub his shoulder, above where he'd been shot over a month before. Her heart panged; she went back to his side and put her hand over his, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He hummed in quiet content, his head resting against her chest. Between his healing and all of the wedding preparation, Emma was almost surprised he wasn't more tired, but having something to do seemed to take his mind off the incident - for the most part. They both slept restlessly, plagued by memory-dreams of that night, and seemed to be taking turns waking each other up so they might be able to get a better night's rest without the dreams.

(She made a mental note to talk to Alice about that too - there had to be some kind of charm or spell to get rid of nightmares.)

Even the last full moon had been spoiled; Emma hadn't wanted to venture too far from home, and even though Killian had protested earlier in the day, he'd felt differently once they shifted. So after a quick sprint around the block to shake out the post-shift jitters, they'd returned and spent the night curled up together on the couch in the living room.

Sighing at the memory, she kissed the top of his head again and then reluctantly pulled away to go get ready for the day. She wondered about next week's full moon as she showered and got dressed, if they'd do the same; a newly mated pair wasn't expected to make an appearance with the rest of the pack, but she hated mating in wolf form and wasn't sure how well they'd handle another night cooped up in the apartment again. She remembered the restless energy, combined with the newness of the bond, that made her almost wild with need to do _something_. She worried that _something_ might overpower her hatred of wolf-mating and then she'd end up actually hurting Killian if she lashed out after being knotted to him for too long.

She was still pondering it when she went into the kitchen and started making… She couldn't quite call this _breakfast_ , not at this hour, but she still attempted to actually cook what had started as an omlette and was now probably just scrambled eggs with bits of stuff in it when Killian came up behind her after his own shower, smelling fresh and still a little damp behind the ears. His hand and arm settled on her waist as he buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply. She could almost feel him relax, and smiled. "I've told you I love you, correct?" he murmured against her skin.

"A few times," she said, leaning into him in content.

"Mm. Maybe I should say it more often." She giggled as he turned her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. "I love you."

"Love you, too," she said, resting her forehead against his. And then, because she could smell his arousal and feel him stirring against her thigh, she added, "You're not going to distract me from going to Alice's."

Killian sighed dramatically, then kissed her again. "Can't blame me for trying."

Emma reached down and squeezed his ass, then gave it a light smack before insisting he move and let her finish cooking. "We're going to find something to help you sleep better, too."

He groaned and she smiled, remembering what he'd told her about his first encounter with Alice's medicine making.

* * *

There it is _, he thought, jogging up to the shop. Which Witch and Whatsits. While non-humans rarely tended to get sick, the bugs that did catch up with them were mean little things and Emma had been suffering from migraines and fever for a week now. This was the closest thing to a chemist they had in the neighborhood for their kind._

 _A gray-striped cat hissed as he entered the shop, sitting on top of the bookshelf right next to the door. Killian barely spared it a glance; cats didn't like him, he didn't like cats. The wolf part of his mind stirred, an idle urge to give chase brewing, but he stamped it down: for one thing, it wasn't dignified for a grown man to chase a cat. For another, hunting pets was something they tried to avoid on the whole. No need to make the neighborhood children cry because a beloved family pet was missing._

 _Though in this case, he simply had no wish to be cursed by the witch that owned this particular cat._

" _Cheshire, behave. He's a strange wolf but he's new to the neighborhood." Killian looked up, noticing a young woman. She wore large, round glasses and kept her long blonde hair tied back in a braid._

 _He raised an eyebrow at that; from his understanding, this one was entirely human. She saw the look and raised an eyebrow of her own. "You think I married a witch and haven't picked up a thing or two? Werewolves walk a certain way. And you're shacked up with Emma Swan, and as far as I know there's way less leniency on inter-species relationships in the wolf packs than other supernaturals."_

" _You must be Robin then."_

" _And you must be looking for Alice."_

" _Who's looking for me?"_

 _The witch bounded out of the back and made a beeline for her wife, clearly needing the same sort of quick affection he and Emma did when they'd been apart for a while. Her short blonde hair was a riot of curls and frizzy in the way of one who spent a lot of time in humid conditions - which spoke for her peculiar gardening of medicinal fungi. Her eyes met his and they widened in curiosity. "Oh hello. You're new, aren't you?"_

 _Killian only had time to nod before she clasped her hands together with an enormous grin. "Excellent. Haven't had a new one in ages, it gets so_ boring _seeing the same faces all day long. Not you, Robin-"_

" _No offense taken, my love."_

" _It's just I don't get to see what else I might be missing in my medicines. Limited quantity of germs to work with, all inbred and so very_ dull-"

" _I'm just here for Emma," he said, even as she was reaching for him. "She's taken ill-"_

 _Hand in hers, the witch took him back into what he presumed was her workshop. "We'll get something for her, but in the meantime -" She sat him on a stool and pulled over a tray of what looked like dental tools. She picked up the little mirror tool and what looked like a long Q-tip. "Open wide."_

* * *

The storefront of Which Witch and Whatsits was unassuming, a subdued sign and a modest window display that mixed travel and New Age products, designed to lure in the younger crowd experimenting with their beliefs and interests. There was a little bell that jingled above the door when they went in and Emma saw Robin talking to a couple of college-aged girls; there were piles of maps and travel books spread on the counter in front of them and even if she couldn't hear their quiet conversation, Emma would know they were discussing the best ways to backpack safely through some part of the world on a shoestring budget. There was a map on the wall behind the cash register with pins in every country Robin (and, eventually, Alice) had been to, and photos forming a sort of border around it. Everest's base camp, riding camel-back through the Sahara, motorcycling across Turkey, summiting the Mayan pyramids - it was no wonder the travel bug-bitten youngsters in the area came to Robin for advice and stories.

Robin glanced up at the bell and nodded at them, not missing a beat in her own conversation. Whatever she knew, she'd likely passed on to Alice, and they wouldn't need to interrupt her.

Cheshire lay sprawled out between a display of healing crystals. He laid his ears back and made a noise of discontent when he saw Emma and Killian; she'd have thought by now that as a witch's familiar Cheshire would be used to all sorts of non-humans coming by, but he only _mostly_ tolerated the presence of other supernaturals. Then he chirped and got to his feet, jumping down from the display and trotting through the beaded curtain that separated the human side of the shop from the magical one.

After only another moment, Alice poked her head out from the other room and grinned, waving them in. The hair on Emma's arms stood up as they passed through the magical barrier placed in the beaded curtain, a spell designed to keep all signs, smells, and sounds of magic away from anyone not "in the know" to the magical community while allowing anyone back here to keep an ear out to the front of the shop.

It was a useful spell, but it still made Emma feel like her hackles were up for ages after.

The workshop itself was a curious mix of greenhouse and darkroom, inviting conditions for all sorts of plants that Alice liked to experiment with. It was warm and humid, making everything slightly damp to the touch. "So, how're you two?" Alice asked, plopping herself on a stool. "Been a bit, yeah? Got all your doves in a row for the wedding?"

"We're fine, Alice, thanks," Killian said. He braced himself against one of the workbenches. "Almost ready with the plans, really just ready to get on with it, you know?"

"That's how I felt when Robin and I got engaged-just wanted to elope and be done with it, but her mum went all 'mother of the bridezilla' and wanted a big to-do. It was nice, I guess, having a mum going bananas over everything, but it took ages to get it all sorted."

Emma couldn't help but glance down at the frankly enormous ring on Alice's finger and pressed her thumb to the band of her own ring reassuringly. It might not be big or flashy, but it held so much meaning and she'd never be able to put into words how thankful she was that Killian agreed to use it for their engagement. "Kind of feels that way with Ruby, even though she's getting everything set up ridiculously fast," she admitted.

"See, that's what everyone should have in their lives. One person who's nutter for planning. Leave a project with 'em and do your own things and come back later when it's ready. 'Course, it's only really useful when there's a big party, but sometimes letting Robin's mum loose with watering the plants while we're gone means we come back to a cleaning service having mucked up my mushrooms and the socks are sorted. She's not one to do the dirty work herself, but she's got all the best contacts in town to get a job done, me mum-in-law."

Emma opened her mouth to respond, but Killian cut in, "Yes, and I'm sure if we need something else catered we'll ask for a number, but we're really here to discuss any updates you might have for us?"

"Oh, he's all business today, ain't he?" Alice asked Emma, who just gave a tight-lipped, slightly apologetic smile. She drooped slightly when she realized neither of them were very interested in playing games. "Wolves. Can't change a subject when you've got a rabbit between your teeth."

With a sigh, she hopped off the stool and beckoned them over to a slightly more conventional desk, covered though it was with notebooks and half-thought-out ideas and drawings, spells, and arcane symbols. All of the papers were slightly crinkled and swollen from the heat and moisture in the room, but most were unceremoniously swept aside to reveal a map of downtown Boston and some carefully taken notes in what must have been Robin's handwriting, because it certainly didn't match any of the barely legible scribbles of a witch at work. "So this is what all the little birdies have been telling us."

As she spoke, Alice pointed out various spots on the map where they'd colored in blocks and streets. "So this is where we'd overheard anything that could be taken for anti-human speech. I made a little color chart here: red is the worst of it, orange and yellow being less so, and down to green being things like annoyances at tourists and the like, nothing that the humans themselves wouldn't complain about."

"And with all the holidays lately, the tourists go up," Emma murmured, noting how much green there was and feeling relief at that. "How'd you figure what's dangerous talk and what isn't?"

"Well, Robin's fair used to hearing all sorts of nonsense said about her, what with the travel and all," Alice said. "She's got a good sense of what's nonsense and what's a threat, my love, so we started there. But we noted something interesting."

"It's all congregated in certain areas," Killian said, pointing to clusters of oranges and reds.

"Exactly! So I made a few rounds with some of the other local witches and got an idea of what their neighborhoods are like."

Witches, Emma learned, tended to congregate towards populations that fit their specialties. There weren't a lot of other non-humans in their neighborhood other than some of the Dorchester pack, so Alice could focus mostly on medicines and toy with side projects as she wished. The areas Killian pointed out were more diverse; the witches there dealt with werewolves and vampires, Fae and centaurs, and others Emma hadn't even known were local. "So we're already looking at centralized neighborhoods," she said, resting her elbows on the table. Alice had even drawn in patterns of where she knew certain species lived.

"Birds of a feather flock together," Alice said. "Or wolves in packs."

"I wonder if Regina wants to evict everyone who isn't Pack, or if she'd be content with making it non-human zone," Killian murmured.

Emma frowned; knowing Regina as she did, she couldn't imagine an alpha like her being wholly invested in creating a happy, magical community for everyone. She also didn't want to get into motives right now; they hadn't told Alice specifically to keep their suspicions quiet, and right now she was looking at them with a gaze that was entirely too curious for comfort. "Is there a timeline on when these notes were made?" Emma asked, changing the subject slightly.

"Just over the last six weeks."

The beaded curtain behind them rustled. "A lot more was said after Killian got shot," Robin's voice added. Emma glanced over her shoulder as the other woman came in. "I'll admit that a lot of the red areas were probably more Pack members speaking out than they normally might, and a lot of it has quieted down in the weeks since, especially after the announcement that you two were going to be married."

"What does that mean, 'normally might'?"

Robin shrugged with one shoulder as Alice lay her head on the other. "Werewolves are always more outspoken with the anti-human stuff than others, but it depends on who's doing the talking. Forest nymphs and water sprites are always vicious about environmental stuff. Centaurs complain about overcrowding and the ineffectiveness of their glamors with people still bumping into their hindquarters. I think of everyone vampires are the quietest about their complaints, but they have their mesmers and their blood bags so as long as they're fed they're happy."

Emma made a face; she really didn't like how casually vampires referred to the humans who willingly came to them or served them as 'blood bags', but there were a lot of things that made her squeamish about vampirism.

"So yeah, everyone has their complaints, but werewolves… I dunno, it always seems louder. And it got really loud after Killian was shot."

"Well, I'd think so," he retorted. "I got _shot_. By a _human_."

"Talk is always more about how Pack should remind humanity they aren't the only apex predators around, knock their egos down a peg or two, not outright finding the offender and killing him."

Killian's scent changed and Emma looked up at him, not liking the way his eyes flashed. "Well, I can't say I disagree with the idea."

"Killing the man won't change anything," Emma argued, alarmed that he'd agree with the anti-human talk.

"Might discourage others from trying anything else, or at least serve as an absolute reminder that there are things stronger than humans out there and we won't be intimidated by their weapons," he said. His voice dropped, colored with enmity. "And, may I remind you, he nearly killed me."

She opened her mouth, but the words got caught in her throat. He was right, he had absolutely every right to be angry about what happened to him. She was angry about it too - she wanted some kind of justice for what had been done.

But _killing_ someone over it?

The wolf part of her brain agreed - _rip, tear, kill_ \- but she tamped it down. Dammit, wasn't she always going on about how she wasn't some kind of animal? How _they_ were better than animals? She refused to be ruled by her baser instincts during her worst moments, she damn well wasn't going to let them rule her during her best. And while justice was necessary, killing the man was going too far.

This wasn't an eye for an eye. This was the whole head for an eye.

"Killing someone for harming someone else isn't a proportional response," she said, knowing her words were weak when she could feel the anger radiating from him.

"I think as the harmed party, I should get a say in how justice is handed out."

"So what, if a hunting party was called, you'd offer to lead it?"

"If that's what the Pack decided needed to be done, yes."

Alarm rose like bile in her throat. This wasn't done. Pack laws were clear about killing, when and where it should be done, and how. And since Killian had recovered and it wasn't deemed a magical attack by Uncle James and several of the other Pack elders, they'd ruled to leave the matter alone and remind everyone of what the possible dangers were during the full moon.

She'd heard Regina hadn't been happy about being overruled in the matter, one of the staunch supporters for such a hunting party.

"Well," she said, conflict in her heart, "it's a good thing the Pack decided everything should be left alone."

Slowly, she remembered that Alice and Robin were still there and watching them with mixed emotions playing on their faces. She felt like she should leave, ears laid back and tail tucked between her legs, but she had one more question. "Where's the greatest area of all the anti-human talk?"

Robin's eyes still looked worried, even behind her huge glasses, but her reply was prompt. "North End."

* * *

" _I'm not happy about this, James," Aunt Jack said. "What's stopping the humans from trying this again at the next full moon?"_

" _Well, you can go join Regina and the other dissenters in that," Uncle James retorted. "Nothing's ever stopped them before, this is just the first time in our memory it's happened."_

" _You used to feel like this too. Fighting back, hitting them where it hurt most."_

 _Sitting there and feeling seventeen again, Emma watched them bicker as she mulled over the announcement that Uncle James had brought home; she'd only come over to let them know about updates for the wedding when he'd arrived. Her aunt and uncle were always arguing about something; Emma hadn't understood it when she was young, but after living with them she figured out it was just how they worked together. You didn't get to be the head of a pack the size of Dorchester by being soft and accommodating. They were happiest when they were fighting._

 _Uncle James sighed, running his hand through his graying hair. "Yeah, well, I've learned a thing or two about diplomacy since then."_

" _There will be Pack who see this as weak," Aunt Jack argued._

 _Emma nodded; she agreed with the majority ruling, but she knew there would be plenty of Pack members who might see this as an opportunity to challenge for leadership. "There will always be Pack who see the alpha's decisions as weak," she said. She ducked her head at Aunt Jack's sharp glare, a reminder that while she held high status in the pack she still ranked lower than them and needed to show respect. "I'm just saying, if some idiot wants to actually challenge Uncle James to a fight, they'd better make funeral preparations first."_

 _It would never feel right to see such a wicked grin on a face that was identical to her father's, but that was Uncle James through and through. "Smart girl. Now, what are you making us pay for this time?"_

* * *

Killian left first, allowing Emma to gather her thoughts and her wits after the meeting ended. She and Robin left Alice to her mushrooms and Emma tried not to sneeze as the full scent of the incense in the shop hit her nose; it was nauseating to her, she didn't know how regular humans could stand it.

She wandered over to look at a display on meditation, breathing in time with what the directions were telling her and wondering if there was any clout to this whole chakra thing, when Cheshire yowled at her and something batted against her boot. She looked down and saw the familiar staring back with unnerving intelligence in his gaze. He yowled again and batted at an egg-shaped stone of mottled green and purple against her boot again. Emma bent down and shooed the familiar away, picking up the stone. "Hey, Cheshire's moving your rocks around," she said, looking it over as she took it over to Robin.

Cheshire hopped up on the counter next to Robin, who pet him absently as she noticed what Emma was holding. "Ah, that's fluorite - a worry stone. He must think you're stressed."

Emma side-eyed the prickly familiar. "Here I thought he didn't like me."

As if to prove her point, his ears went back and he looked away, but he didn't actually hiss this time and she took that as an improvement. "He does what he wants, but he's pretty good at getting people the things they need. Most of the time he's more subtle, but since you already know what he is, I don't think he cares." Emma looked down at the stone and Robin's tone changed to something softer. "Hey, that one's on the house. You two… seemed a little tense back there. It can't hurt and it might even help."

Emma's eyes flicked up back to Robin's and her mouth twisted into a wry smile. "This healing crystal stuff actually works?"

"You buy magic mushrooms from a witch and turn into a wolf once a month, but you're asking if healing crystals exist?"

"Okay, I don't buy _those_ kinds of magic mushrooms."

Robin's smile was pure mischief. "They're there when you want 'em. She bred a new batch, much more potent but grounds you enough so you don't end up doing something stupid and dream quest off a cliff."

Emma made a face. "I don't think I'd be able to handle that."

"It's not for everyone." Her smile faded. "But seriously, Alice does… something to bring out the qualities in the crystals we sell. I don't ask, her magic talk just sounds like mumbo-jumbo to me. The other shops like this just sell plain rocks and they're aesthetically pleasing, but our stuff tends to work. It can't hurt, and it might help when you have to have what I'm gonna guess is a really uncomfortable conversation when you get home."

Emma made another face. "God, don't remind me… How can he think like that?"

Robin just shrugged, scritching Cheshire's ears. "People who are wronged… sometimes I think they're the only ones who get to decide who justice is mete. I've been around the world and seen a lot of justice done badly. But I've seen a lot of justice carried out to the best it can be done and people are still hurt by the results. No one's happy. So maybe this is how justice was handled, not doing anything in order to protect everyone involved, because the other option is going to blow a hole between two sides that might never be fixed. But Killian won't see it that way for a while, because while his body is healed, it takes a lot longer for the mind to heal."

Emma mulled that over for a moment, rolling the worry stone around in her palm; it made sense and put it into better words than she'd been thinking.

And the warm stone in her hand gave her the strangest feeling of tension leaving her shoulders.

"I don't know if he'll see it that way, but I'll try," she said. Then, remembering her earlier mental note, she added, "Oh, and speaking of mind-healing, I was wondering if you had anything that could help with nightmares."

* * *

She arrived home a little while later with a bag of sleeping tea and a chunk of black tourmaline to put in the bedroom - she was still skeptical of the crystal, but at this point she'd try anything (and regardless, she knew the tea would work; this was just a fallback). Though the sun was going down, the apartment was dark; she inhaled and found Killian's scent was fresh, tinged with bitterness and fading anger. She also smelled liquor.

Sighing a little, she put the tea in the kitchen and started towards the bedroom. "Swan," Killian called out, his voice a little hoarse.

She turned; he was sitting on the couch, though honestly calling it 'sitting' was being modest, what with all the manspreading of his arms over the back and his legs stretched out under the coffee table. A tumbler of what she surmised was rum was in his hand; the rest of the bottle sat on the table and she recognized it as one of Elsa's "guaranteed to knock a werewolf on his ass" brands.

Cool. Great.

"Don't make a man drink alone," he said, though he looked fairly drunk already.

Emma was in the mood for neither a drink or a man, but she just shook her head and went to the bedroom. She set the black tourmaline on the window ledge above their bed as Robin had instructed, then changed into more comfortable clothes. If she was going to be hauling Killian's drunk ass to bed or to the bathroom later, she'd rather do it in leggings than skinny jeans.

At that thought, she sat down hard on the bed and cradled her head in her hands. God, why was _he_ the one driven to drink right now? He wasn't the one who found out his intended mate would be more than happy to murder someone for crossing him. He wasn't the one feeling betrayed because his intended mate agreed with the woman who killed her parents.

The metal of her ring pressed against her skin and Emma felt nauseated.

Fuck. They were getting married in a week. A _week_.

Maybe she did need a drink. A lot of drinks.

He knew how she felt about Regina, about Regina's politics. Saying he didn't disagree with the notion - the _Pack-forbidden notion_ \- that the man who'd shot him should be gutted for the crime was as good as saying he agreed with Regina. But he'd been shot, he had _every right_ to feel angry and want revenge!

But that didn't mean it _was_ right.

Emma dropped her head down and braced her hands on the back of her neck, trying to breathe and will away the nausea. _He just needs time_ , she thought, remembering Robin's words. _It's only been a few weeks since it happened, he just needs time to heal. And having nightmares every night isn't helping. Of course he wants revenge when he's reliving it all the time._

 _He just needs time._

She got up, head throbbing and feeling like her thoughts were twisted seven ways from Sunday, and went to the living room. Killian watched her with unsteady eyes and she noted that not even half the bottle was gone. Elsa's stuff really was strong if he was that far gone already.

Good.

Emma lifted the bottle to her lips and drank. The rum burned its way down her throat and lit a fire in her belly - she didn't want _a_ drink, she decided as she lowered the bottle. She wanted to get _drunk_. If he could do it, for no real reason she could discern, then so could she. She had reasons to blur and block out her emotions right now, and she intended to suppress them with as much alcohol as her body could handle tonight.

She took another long drag out of the bottle, ignoring the tiny bit of common sense left that told her the alcohol would smack her in the face like a truck if she kept this up.

She sat on the chair, bottle still tightly held in her fist, and met Killian's gaze with her own. She didn't want to talk, not now, not with one of them sober and the other piss-drunk already. They could talk - fight - later, when she couldn't see straight and the words that wanted to spill out of her like bile were no more coherent than his. Hell, if she stayed this tense and the anger that still lurked in his scent remained, they might even take it to a brawl, and God help any of Boston's finest that get called out to deal with their little domestic at that point.

Her heart beat in her chest and with it came a surge of alcohol, a wave of relief and pain and anger all at once, making her arms unsteady as it worked its way through her body and clouded her mind.

She drank again.

"You're angry with me," Killian said, downing the rest of his glass.

"You're pissed at me," she retorted.

He took the bottle from her to refill his glass. She took it back, nowhere near drunk enough to fight yet, but if he wanted to get into it then she wanted to be prepared to not remember a single second of this. "I am," he whispered, drinking more. "But I'm angry at me too."

The bottle paused halfway to her lips. "What?"

"I don't… I don't want to feel like this." She watched him warily, taking another swig. "I don't _want_ to feel like I need to take revenge, like I'd be glad to see the man ripped limb from limb, but I feel like if I don't do something then it's going to rip me apart inside forever. And I don't want to push you away. I don't want you to think I'm a monster."

She felt a pang of sympathy in her chest. "Killian-"

He downed his drink then looked her in the eye. "You looked at me like you were afraid of the beast within, Emma, and I never want you to look at me like that again."

"You were as good as agreeing with Regina, and you know how I feel about her. This won't last forever, Killian, but you can't let your instincts take over like that."

He held out his hand. "Come here, love." A knot of tension between her shoulders loosened at the pet name and she took his hand, yelping in surprise when he pulled her over to sit on his lap. "You have all the rum."

"Yeah, well, some of us got a head start on the drunken pity party."

She took another swig, but clumsily refilled his glass after. Damn, this stuff was strong. Then again, as she eyed the bottle, she realized they'd drunk quite a lot of it. Setting it on the table, she settled against him, letting his scent wash over her - definitely more rum-infused, but the anger was gone, leaving only the sour tang of bitterness in its wake, with more than a little arousal at having her in such close proximity. If it wouldn't have made her more dizzy, she would have rolled her eyes. "You know, there's no way I'd ever be afraid of your inner beast. I could take you."

Killian snorted. "You wish."

"I'm pretty sure we've fought before and I win every time."

"Only because I'm holding back."

She hummed, not quite agreeing with him on that. She nuzzled his neck, listening to his heart rate speed up and his breath quicken. A smile crept up on her, much of the anger and hurt slowly vanishing after voicing them and the giddiness of being drunk bubbling up inside of her; she loved this man, infuriating qualities and all, and maybe they still needed to talk and maybe they weren't going to see eye to eye on everything, but she loved him and she was going to marry him for better or for worse. Nuzzling him again, she let her fingers dance up the front of his shirt, tracing circles on his chest. God he smelled good.

"Do I?"

Belatedly, she realized she'd said that out loud and started giggling - fuck, she was definitely drunk if she was giggling like this. "You always smell good."

"Funny, because you always smell good too."

As if to prove his point, he leaned over and buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply. She started giggling again when he nosed around, his beard scratching against her skin. Then he licked along her collarbones and she stopped giggling, a flood of heat coursing through her instead. "Fuck, Killian."

With surprising mobility for a man who'd gotten a head start on the whole drinking business, he shifted her so she straddled his waist, kneeling on the couch. The heady scent of arousal made her feel fuzzy and her clit pulsed in time with her heartbeat as she pressed against his growing arousal. "I only want you," he murmured, catching her lips with his.

She was too drunk to care where the sentiment came from, too lost in feeling his body pressed against hers. "I know how you kiss," he continued, pressing kisses to her lips and cheeks and neck between words. "I only want to kiss you ever again, to know everything that makes you squirm and squeal. I only want this forever."

His words swam around in her brain as he stripped off her shirt and tossed it aside. How the fuck was he so eloquent? Then he buried his face between her breasts and she didn't care how wordy he still was after splitting most of a bottle of rum, she only cared about the feeling of him sucking on her nipples and his hand and his brace against her sides.

At some point she reached between them and unbuttoned his shirt, revelling every time his chest hair brushed against her stomach. His hand went to the waistband of her leggings, pulling them down enough so he could find her sex, dripping wet with want. Emma let her head fall back as his fingers gently probed her folds and slid through, the dual sensations of him fingering her and lavishing attention on her breasts almost enough to undo her. She moaned, her hands going to his hair and holding him in place as he fucked her with two fingers, easing some of the ache she'd felt.

She was dizzy and drunk and turned on and all she wanted was to feel his skin against hers. "As you wish," Killian murmured against her skin and she realized she'd been talking without realizing it again.

She whimpered when his fingers left her and fumbled rather ungracefully off to the side, fighting to get her leggings off of legs that didn't really want to cooperate anymore. Killian, meanwhile, had seemingly forgotten how his belt worked and was snarling in frustration as he tried to undo his pants. Emma, one foot caught in her leggings and the other leg still fully clothed, started giggling again, reaching for him. "You don't have enough fingers," she told him, helping him undo the belt and flicked open the button as well.

"I have enough fingers for you to come on," he retorted.

"I'd rather come on your cock," she challenged, and the surge of arousal she smelled rolling off of him was answer enough.

It was clumsy and entirely ridiculous, each of them trying to get their pants off enough to actually be able to have sex, but Emma forgot about it entirely when he lay on top of her, his cock nudging her entrance and then sliding in, stretching her and making her tingle from her head to her toes. "I love sucking your cock," she said, trying to move her arm to a better spot and not elbow him in the face.

"I love eating you out," he told her, his hips pushing up against hers.

"It's why I did it this morning."

"I know."

She gasped when he moved, feeling like every inch of her was wound and ready to snap. "Is Elsa's drink also a magic potion?"

"What?"

Normally he was the talker during sex, but the alcohol gripped her tongue tight and every thought that entered her head seemed to be coming out. "This feels different. Good different? Is it Elsa?"

"I really don't want to think about my brother's mate right now."

"Oh. I do, kinda."

Killian snorted with laughter. "Love, you're really very drunk."

"Yeah, and so are you."

His head dropped to her chest as he kept laughing and _oh_ , that was weird, feeling him shake with laughter while he was inside of her. But she liked it, not nearly as much as she liked it when he was actually fucking her, but it felt nice. She squirmed a little under him, trying to get into a better position, but it must have had an effect on him because his laughter turned into groans.

He started moving again and Emma sighed happily. She shifted her legs up, hooking her ankles behind his knees and moaned loudly when he bottomed out. She closed her eyes, every thrust sending a wave of pleasure through her. Her arms moved almost on their own in a slow, lazy drift up his back; she didn't need to cling to him - this wasn't their normal wild, passionate lovemaking - but she wanted to hold him tight, bring him closer, see how far they could go before blurring the line between their bodies and becoming one.

It didn't take long for her to come after that, her orgasm unfurling in a slow, dreamy way that left her sighing his name instead of screaming it like normal, but she thought it must be all the alcohol changing how it felt. She didn't mind, though, it was nice and it was making her sleepy.

Killian took a little longer to finish, his thrusts becoming more erratic and making desperate noises as he raced to finish. Emma made a face - it was starting to hurt a little - but but eventually he stilled, the dull, salty tang of his come reaching her nose as he spilled inside her. He lingered for another moment before pulling out and dropping his head against her chest, mumbling something she couldn't make out and didn't much care to ask him to clarify. She thread her fingers through his hair as he settled down over her, murmured _wake me when it's time for dinner_ around a yawn, and promptly fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**As penance for going so long between updates, here's nearly 10.5k of wedding emotions and mating rituals. Enjoy!**

* * *

"And this is the honeymoon suite."

He noted that several of their bags were already in the room; they'd been told that Emma's dress had already been delivered and stored in the bridal suite downstairs, and the rest of her things for tomorrow had been whisked away by the astonishingly efficient venue attendants. He smiled when Emma sucked in a breath and her hand shot out to grip his arm as she took in the room itself.

It was almost like they'd specially redecorated it to match their wedding theme. White walls and low bookcases encased hardwood floors covered in red oriental rugs; almost the entirety of the outside wall was windows that looked out over the snow-covered gardens and woods beyond. There were large, comfortably plush red armchairs near a fireplace - unlit at the moment but he might insist on them lighting it just to add to the ambiance - and a free-standing wardrobe flanked the entrance to the bathroom. The bed, though, he sensed that his dearest wanted to do nothing more than face plant onto the unbelievably plush-looking red quilt and test out just how soft those pillows seemed to be.

"This is amazing," she breathed, walking to the windows to look out over the grounds. Snow fell thick and fast, as it had been during their drive up here, and made everything look truly magical. "Seriously, this is more than what I could have asked for."

Killian came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle and pressing a kiss to her neck. When the inevitable question of 'where are we going to stay if we're having our wedding two hours away' had arisen, Killian had made all the arrangements under a strict agreement of surprise. Knowing Emma's reluctance to spend money, especially on something she might otherwise deem 'frivolous' or 'selfish', he'd especially wanted to keep such a grand suite of rooms secret - not to deceive her, but to spoil her as he so often wanted to. And staying in the manor that they were to be wed in would certainly make tomorrow easier, both during the day and the night to come.

The beautiful wintery scenes outside and the fact that the decor matched their theme was only a happy accident.

"It's nothing more than you deserve, my love," he told her, sincerity laced in his voice. Then, in a much lower tone - well aware that the concierge with them was also a werewolf - he added, "Let's hope they've reinforced the bed, aye?"

Arousal spiked her scent, making him grin. He backed off, looking back at the concierge, who had the decency to pretend she hadn't heard anything. "And the bachelor's suite?" he asked.

He heard Emma make the smallest noise of protest, but this at least they had discussed. While he wasn't a particularly suspicious wolf, he figured that with his luck with women - losing a hand for one and (in a roundabout way) getting shot while with another - he'd had all the terrible luck he could stand for a lifetime and didn't want to chance anything else. They'd spend the night apart and he wouldn't see her until she was walking towards him down the aisle.

"This way, sir."

Emma slipped her hand in his as they walked down the hall; thankfully it wouldn't be far and he could at least still smell her if he tried. "I don't want to do this," she murmured. "We haven't spent the night apart since you moved in."

"Codependent," he teased, though he understood exactly how she felt. "It's one night, love, we'll be fine. After tomorrow, there'll be no getting rid of me."

"Promise?"

"Aye," he said, pausing to lean down and give her a quick kiss.

The bachelor's suite wasn't nearly as grand as the honeymoon suite, but it suited him just fine. The polish on the wood was dark, rather than white, though the theme of red still ran through the fabrics and the bed looked just as comfortable as the one they'd share tomorrow night. His bags were there already as well, his tuxedo for tomorrow hanging in the wardrobe. "Well, this is cozy," he said, giving Emma's hand a squeeze.

"Shall I give you some time to rest after the drive out here, or would you prefer to go over the last minute details?" the concierge asked.

Killian shared a glance with Emma. He wasn't tired; he really just needed to stretch, and moving around making final decisions would help with that. She shrugged. "I'm okay to do prep stuff. We can take a break before the rehearsal later."

The concierge smiled and led them downstairs.

It was funny, he decided, how all the details and plans they'd been making weren't nearly as many as the ones done just in the last week. In addition to their own things, they'd brought bags of favors and decorations put together in the evenings, many of which would have to be taken home again and Killian had no earthly idea where they'd put them or if they'd even reuse them at all. These things needed to have designated places at the venue, and then there were discussions about floral arrangement placements, finalizing table setup, going over the guest list one last time, reviewing catering options again for both the rehearsal and the reception…

He had the beginnings of a headache by the time they were released from duties to relax and prepare for the rehearsal dinner in a few hours. "Can you believe these people think this is a small wedding?" he asked wearily as they trooped up the stairs.

"It is a small wedding," Emma said. She led them into the honeymoon suite, sighing in relief as she flopped onto the bed. Killian rolled his eyes good-naturedly as it took her another minute to remember to kick her shoes off. "Neither of us have large immediate families, few close friends. I think the most of the guest list is some business associates your brother insisted on and some of the ranking pack leadership that my uncle said we had to invite."

He grunted as he took off his own shoes before laying back on the absurdly comfortable bed. "All those bloody party favors say otherwise."

She hummed, rolling over to face him. "I thought you liked the favors."

He forgot, for a moment, what they were discussing as he took in the sparkle in her green eyes, the way the light caught in her hair and made it glow. The quirk of her lips said she knew he wasn't thinking about party favors anymore. "I do like them," he said, proving her wrong. "I just liked the idea of them more than the creation of them."

"Well, now they get to go to other people who hopefully like them and appreciate all the effort we put into them," she said, scooting forward enough to rest her head against his chest.

"The literal blood poured into them with all the papercuts," Killian mused, pulling her close and resting his nose against her hair. She giggled against him and he breathed in her scent, letting it wash over him and ease the tension between his shoulders. "Liam texted earlier, they'll be here soon."

Emma hummed, her hand fisting in his shirt. He could sense she was on the precipice of sleep; he wasn't sure he'd be able to, knowing his brother and family would be arriving shortly, but he'd be more than content to lay here with her, especially knowing that this would be their last peaceful moment alone before tomorrow night.

Tomorrow.

He exhaled slowly, trying to keep his breathing even and a tight rein on his emotions; Emma would wake up if she sensed any changes and he didn't know how to talk to her about this. It might, he decided, reflect badly on their pending nuptials that he felt uneasy about _discussing_ said pending nuptials. But it was difficult to figure out how to discuss his feelings when he knew bungling his phrasing would only make her afraid that he would leave her. He really just needed some time alone with his brother - Liam would know if he was just having a case of cold feet or if it was something worse. And since Liam and Elsa had only done the mating ceremony when they'd bonded, he'd be able to offer some insight on if this was possibly some side effect of the human ceremony.

He hoped.

He wanted this. He wanted Emma, wanted a life together, for good or ill, he just… He worried that there were too many things left unsaid between them before they took such a step. Particularly after their altercation last week - it hadn't escaped his notice, drunk or not, that they hadn't reached any understanding in their difference in opinion. And yes, that had been mostly his fault, driven to distraction by the alcohol and how arousing she was when she was angry, putting everything else aside to fuck her and forget that they were at odds with each other.

But she hadn't put forward the option to discuss it either.

Was this a sign? Or was this just a normal relationship bump?

Voices drifted up from downstairs - he recognized Liam immediately, scolding Anna's twins for running in wet shoes on the hardwood floors. Moving gently, Killian extracted himself from Emma's embrace, soothing her with a kiss to her brow when she grumbled. "Liam's here, darling, I'm going to see him. Rest."

She mumbled, relaxing into the pillows; he draped the blanket from the foot of the bed over her and left quietly, taking the stairs two at a time as the voices grew louder. As he came around the bend, a cheer went up. "There's the man of the hour!"

Liam enveloped him in a hug, slapping him on the back this time - "Don't grumble at me, old man, you're surely back on your feet now." - and then Killian went for the more gentle embrace of his sister-in-law, Elsa. "Hello, Killian."

"Elsa, glad you made it."

"UNCLE KILLIAN!"

He faked a gasp of pain as the twins, Harper and Sidney, crashed into his legs, each hugging around the knee and giggling. "I didn't know you were raising were-rhinoceroses, Anna," Killian said, and with great exaggeration lifted his legs high to walk over to hug her as well.

Anna looked exhausted and harried. He didn't envy her, having to keep up with a pair of four-year olds across two continents, even with three other adults to help out. "Pups have energy," she said, reaching down to pry the girls away. They whined and only clung to his legs harder. "Too much energy."

"Can we play in the snow now?" Harper asked.

Anna tugged on their arms. "Let go of Uncle Killian and we'll talk about it."

"Pleeeeeease, Mummy?" Sidney added.

"I said let go of your uncle." Anna's tone brokered no arguments.

With dramatic sighs, both girls listened and released him. Kristoff came over and took the twins in hand. "If we can get everything to our room in one piece, I'll take you out into the snow. Hi Killian."

"YAY!"

"Hey Kristoff."

Anna blew a strand of hair out of her face. "Where's Emma? We've been dying to meet her!"

"She's having a bit of a lie down, we got an early start today."

The concierge reappeared with room keys and there was more noise and a whirlwind of activity as everything was moved upstairs and the twins kept up a running commentary of everything they were planning on doing in the snow over the next few hours - Kristoff started to remind them about the rehearsal later, but gave up after they went into excruciating detail about what kind of snow fort they wanted to build. During the battle to put on proper snow clothes, Killian managed to lure Liam away to talk privately.

As the door shut behind them to the bachelor's suite, Liam sighed as the noise faded away. "I love them dearly, but my nieces are bloody exhausting."

Killian chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I can see that. Like that the whole trip, were they?"

"Not at first." Spotting a bottle of brandy on the dresser, Killian decided he needed some liquid courage; Liam sounded like he needed a drink after a long day of travel anyway. "They were fine in London, but about halfway across the Atlantic things got restless. I don't blame them, it's a long bloody flight, but I can only answer so many questions about going backwards in time before I need to Google something and I wasn't about to fork over a few quid for the pleasure."

Killian handed over a tumbler of brandy and they tapped the rims together before taking a sip. Liam makes a noise of content at the taste, then sets his glass aside. "So. My little brother is finally mating."

"Younger."

"Is it the end of bachelordom that's got you all worked up in knots?"

He winced; try as he might, Liam knows him better than anyone and there's no disguising the fear-scent from the man who once helped change his soaked bedsheets after nightmares. "Not exactly…"

Liam leaned back against the door and folded his arms, waiting for Killian to find the words. "I love her," he said finally. "I love her more than anything. I just… we've had arguments, we've had disagreements, and there are things I've never told her, just as I'm sure there are things she's never told me."

"Such as?"

"I never told her about our father."

Liam's eyebrow raises. "Well, considering the state he left us in, I don't imagine it's a topic you'd care to revisit often. Has she asked?"

"No, but there were moments during the wedding planning where we chose things for the memories of our parents. She probed the subject of Father but I never… I couldn't. She didn't pry," Killian said, taking another sip of brandy. "And last week, we found more information regarding the incident in October. We found ourselves… at odds, over how to handle the situation." Liam looked at him expectantly and Killian grimaced. "Alright, we fought. We were both angry and got drunk and fought some more and… set it aside in favor of more interesting activities."

"Not quite a hate fuck, but not make-up sex either."

" _Liam_."

He held up his hands in acquiesce. "Do you know when I told Elsa about Father? About how Mum died?" he asked, swirling the brandy around. "We were mated a _year_ before I got the guts to tell her. Around the time she was thinking of starting her own brewery."

"How angry was she?"

"Considering we were still paying off the end of Father's debts when she and I mated, I think I got off easy. She didn't speak to me for a month, went to stay with Anna. It was right after the pups were born, so she told everyone it was to help out."

Killian had a vague memory of that; it would have been after he and Liam had been outcast from their old pack, so his faulty memory could be pinned to some of the hard drinking and self-loathing he'd dunked himself in for a few years after losing Milah and his hand. There wasn't a lot about that time he could clearly remember, not until Liam had given him an ultimatum to sober up and pull his own weight. "So you're telling me I shouldn't do that."

Liam reached over and cuffed him on the ear. "Insolent pup. Tell her sooner before later, but don't make the mistake I did. It's the worst feeling in the world, knowing your mate is near but being unable - being _forbidden_ \- to see or touch her. Being rejected. We're not made for loneliness, we're made for Pack, and it nearly drove me insane to be forced out by her."

Killian thought about the allusions Emma had made to what it was like when a mate-bond was broken, the distant look she'd get in her eyes and the shadow of pain that would cross her face.

He never wanted to cause her that kind of pain, never wanted to experience it for himself.

"As for the other," Liam continued with a small shrug, "everyone has disagreements and fights. It's never a knock-down brawl, but Elsa and I have gotten into a shouting match a time or two. It doesn't mean you're mismatched, it doesn't mean your partnership is doomed to fail. It means you're human - or at least partly human, and sometimes you just don't agree. It's alright, Killian."

He worried on his lower lip, mulling that over. "That gossip you told us about, the anti-human talk. We're pretty sure Regina's behind it here. It hurt Emma when I said I wasn't opposed to some of the revenge ideas being tossed around - that's what we fought about. She thought I as good as agreed with the alpha who killed her parents."

Liam was silent for a long moment. Killian fidgeted with his glass. "Do you?" he asked finally.

"Do I what?"

"Agree with the alpha."

Killian bristled a little, but drank the rest of the brandy to keep from snapping out a retort. "I don't agree with her little gentrification ideas, but I don't disagree with the notion of payback for what that hunter did to me. I think I've earned that right."

Liam chewed on his lower lip, staring at him intently. Killian met his gaze squarely. Finally, he, too, downed the rest of his drink. "Are you planning on carrying out that revenge? Against a nameless, faceless hunter?" Killian opened his mouth - and then deflated as he realized Liam was right.

He had no idea who shot him and digging around for anyone who might know would definitely get him in trouble with the pack elders who had already said to let the matter rest. Liam rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You've earned the right to be angry about what happened, Killian. I just don't want you to lose everything you hold dear for one moment of personal satisfaction."

"I don't… I don't want anyone else to get hurt," Killian said, understanding some of his own anger and pain even as he voiced it. "He hurt me, and I don't know what state Emma would have been in had it been fatal. I don't want to think of it. I don't want to give that man another chance at me, another chance to hurt Emma, or hurt anyone else."

Liam made a noise like he was about to say something else, but then just sighed and pulled Killian in for a hug. "That's why we run in packs, brother," he said as Killian embraced him. "So we can protect each other."

* * *

 _He cradled his arm to his chest, tired of sniveling and crying like a child, but everything -_ everything _\- hurt too much and he had no other outlet that wasn't screaming his head off and that was slightly less socially appropriate. Liam crouched down next to him, seemingly unaffected by the stares of those who couldn't mind their own business at a man without one of his hands and too many emotions to keep to himself. "Come on, Killian, let's go home."_

" _We haven't_ got _a home. We're cast out and it's_ my _fault and-"_

" _Killian. As long as we've got each other, we'll always have a home. We're brothers. We don't need anyone else. We can protect each other, form our own pack. Come on."_

* * *

The rehearsal went about as smoothly as such a thing could go, stopping every three minutes to explain what would happen next and then moving everyone into position for the next bit. The twins, not needed after their sprint down the aisle was redone several times in an attempt to slow it to at least a light jog, were whisked away by Anna and Kristoff to try and exhaust before bed so they could get enough sleep for the next day. Liam and Ruby also got to know one another quite well as the venue's coordinator made them practice their walk over and over again, with Elsa and Dorothy providing "helpful" commentary from the sidelines. Killian grew quite bored as he was only required to stand at the front during all of this, wondering when Emma's uncle James would lose his patience with the coordinator as she told them for the third time to go back to the doors and try again.

It was a relief to get to the dinner portion, to relax and chat with their families, give their small bridal party the gifts they'd found: Liam and James received cufflinks shaped like wolf heads, Ruby and the twins were each given a moonstone pendant with matching earrings. Toasts were made, embarrassing speeches were given, and it warmed Killian to his core to see the rest of his family so open and welcoming to Emma.

Ascending the stairs for bed, however, was probably the hardest thing he'd ever do in his life. Knowing they'd have to part ways at the top, Emma held his hand tight as they took the stairs slowly, chatting idly about nothing important. At the top, she pulled him flush against her, changing her grip from his shirt collar to his hair as she kissed him, her tongue slipping between his lips and her scent overpowering his other senses. His arms went around her waist, giving as good as he got, the soft moans and mewls he elicited from her music to his ears. "Don't use that other room," she murmured against his lips.

"Emma…"

"I know, I just… don't want to sleep without you."

Her grip in his hair eased and he rested his forehead against hers. "I don't relish the thought either, love, but we've talked about this. Extensively. Earlier today, even."

Her sigh mixed with a whine that triggered a reaction from his body. Killian shifted away a little as his cock stirred, making her giggle. "Come back in the room with me and I'll make it worth your while," she said, her tone dropping to something much more sultry.

He groaned, dropping his head to the crook of her neck. "You'll be the death of me, darling," he said. As a little bit of payback, he ran his tongue in a sloppy circle around the spot he'd mark her tomorrow night when he claimed her as his. Her arousal hit his nose and he thought perhaps this 'payback' may have backfired slightly. "I'm taking a raincheck on that for tomorrow."

As Killian lifted his head to meet her eyes, she looked at him with an indulgent smirk. "Your wife on her knees in front of you?"

"As opposed to my fiancée on her knees in front of me?"

"Touché."

He patted her arse and she squeaked. "Go, before the last of my will crumbles and they'll never drag us out of that room for tomorrow."

Emma glanced back over her shoulder as they parted, reluctantly, for their own rooms. It's only for one night, he told himself, smiling at her as he unlocked the bachelor's suite. "I love you," she said, her hand on the doorknob for the honeymoon suite.

"I love you too."

He leaned against the door once he'd closed it behind him, scrubbing his hand across his face. Every instinct told him to open the door, stalk down the hall, and join her in the other room, stupid human traditions be damned, but he was stronger than his instincts and would get through this.

So he thought.

Just getting ready for bed told him how used to having Emma at his side he was: he was reaching for her toothbrush before he caught himself - a habit now, to put the toothpaste on both of their brushes - and he draped a hand towel on the marble counter for her to use after she washed her face. All things she would be doing in her own suite, without him, and his heart panged at the realization even as he wondered how much water she was dripping on the floor when she inevitably forgot to grab a towel.

And laying in the bed itself? It smelled like laundry detergent and the very faint remaining scents of those who'd lain here before, all of them laying awake and wondering after their brides-to-be, just as he did. Nothing of the sheets or covers smelled like her and it was astonishing how tense he felt just because he lacked something he'd grown to take almost for granted would always be there.

This was bollocks.

He gradually kicked all of the covers off, the bed too hot after all his tossing and turning and punching the pillows into a much more comfortable shape, but it was no use. This was worse than when he'd been living in the hotel last summer; at least then he'd known they were apart for a _good_ reason - well, work being a generally agreed upon reason, if not actually good. This was actual agony, knowing she was so close and something so _trivial_ keeping them apart -

Hell and damnation.

This was all his idea but it was practically killing him. The most idiotic idea he'd ever come up with and now he was beholden to it, especially after he'd pushed her not once, but twice today to stick with it when she'd wanted to do away with it. Growling to himself, Killian swung his feet to the floor and got up, quietly shuffling to the door and going into the hall. The mansion was quiet, everyone else doing the sensible thing and sleeping. He crept down the hall until he reached the door of the honeymoon suite, knocking softly. "Emma?"

"Killian?"

He heard footsteps, and the wood creaked under the door, signaling she was on the other side. "I can't sleep," he said, keeping his voice down.

"Me neither," she admitted, her voice just as quiet. "Are you…"

"Missing you, not nervous," he assured her. "Well… not wholly nervous. It's just a human ceremony."

She chuckled. "Yeah. But then there's the whole other thing later…"

He smiled, resting his forehead against the door. There was a slight vibration against the door and he imagined she was doing the same on the other side, only this flimsy bit of wood separating them. How easily he could break it… nothing separating them…

His conversation with Liam came back to him, the possibility of Emma reacting like Elsa had and rejecting him looming above him. "Emma?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I… I want to tell you something. Before tomorrow." He heard her inhale sharply and hastened to add, "Nothing that affects us. It's - it's about my father. About why I didn't want anything honoring him at our wedding."

"Now?" Emma asks and he can almost see the incredulous look on her face.

"It's been complicated, love. I needed Liam to set me straight on some things before I found the courage to explain."

She didn't respond and he sighed, turning and sliding down the wall to sit against the door frame. "My father wasn't a good man. I didn't know this, but when I was a child he got in bed with one of the bigger crime families in London. We… our kind is useful as muscle, you know that. They hired out a lot of our pack, Gold had a deal with them."

"The same Gold that-?"

He nodded, even though she couldn't see. "The same. Far as I know, he's still the alpha, old bastard's been around for decades. Father got in on a tip from Gold, got steady work for a while. Which was good - I knew we weren't well-off, but not until I was older did I really know how bad it was. But then he ran into trouble. Cheated his way out of deals, skimmed the top off of payments. Gambling. Drinking. All on the mob's dime, until they pulled the plug on him and stuck him with the bill. Us with the bill."

Rustling cloth and the slight scrape against wood told him she was taking a seat as well. He talked quietly, explaining things he'd only really come to understand much later: his father dying unexpectedly (they still weren't sure if he'd paid some of his debts in blood or if he'd taken his own life), his mother working herself to an early grave, Liam making deals to keep the wolves from the door - metaphorical wolves, though a few werewolves from other packs wouldn't have bat an eye at punishing sons for the sins of their father.

Between explaining the state his father had left things in and his mum's death, Emma opened the door enough to slip her hand through, taking his own in hers and squeezing. She squeezed particularly hard when he named the amount of debt that had only been paid off in the last several years, but she didn't ask how they'd done it. She only asked, "Is that the end of it? The books are clean, everything's paid up, no one's going to come knocking at our door at three in the morning asking for a favor?"

Killian nodded. "Aye. Accounts are clean, no loose threads. And the years since have all been working to clear up our name. Everyone coming tomorrow - today - knows where we're from, what we overcame to get to this point. And I just… wanted you to know, before everything, why I only wanted roses for Mum."

"Okay." She squeezed his hand as she said it and a weight lifted from his chest. "I'm not _thrilled_ you waited this long to tell me, but I get it. And I am glad you told me."

"Uncle Killian?" He froze. _Shit_. "I had a bad dream."

He looked up and saw Harper toddling towards him, rubbing her eyes. "I'm sorry, Harper. Did you hear us talking?"

"Yuh-huh."

"So much for a quiet midnight rendezvous," Emma murmured.

"C'mere." Harper all but collapsed into his lap, laying her head against his chest and tucking her thumb in her mouth. He wondered if he should get her to stop, not knowing if Anna wanted to wean her of the habit, but decided to let it be. "It's all right. Why didn't you go to your mama and papa?"

"They're sleeping." So going to the adults who were awake was the most logical step. "Why are you on the floor?"

"Yes, Killian, why are you on the floor?" Emma asked, amusement in her voice.

"Floor's better than standing," he said, putting his arm around Harper.

"Why aren't you inside with Emma? Isn't she your mate?"

They were getting to the twenty questions part of the night, it seemed. He only hoped she'd fall asleep before he needed to look anything up. "Not yet. We're doing… a human tradition. It's a little silly, but it means that the first time I see her tomorrow, she'll be all dressed up and pretty."

"She's already pretty."

"Aw, thank you, Harper," Emma said.

"So it's a surprise." Harper wriggled, getting more comfortable, and Killian winced as she jammed her heels and knees into sensitive spots. "Like when Daddy brings home flowers and Mummy tells him 'oh you shouldn't have!'"

"Yes, just like that," Killian said. "Now, you know it's very late - why don't you try to sleep, little one, and I'll tuck you in before I go back to my room? We'll stay here with you until you do, make sure no more bad dreams come."

"'Kay."

Emma's thumb rubbed against his in slow circles. They're quiet for the time being, letting Harper fall back asleep; Killian looked down when he felt her go limp against his chest and her hand fell away from her mouth, smiling slightly. "She's asleep," he whispered.

"They're cute," Emma whispered. "But I don't know how Anna and Kristoff keep up with them."

"Maybe there's some kind of superpower that you get when you become parents," he said, though he recalled how tired they - and Liam and Elsa - looked earlier in the evening. "Or maybe they just have a lot of playdates with the other pups their age so everyone gets worn out at once."

Emma hummed in amusement. "Let's wait a little bit longer before we find out for ourselves."

"Agreed," he said, squeezing her hand. He did want pups, eventually, and he thought that, despite losing her first litter so traumatically, she did as well, but he was more than content to have her all to himself for a while.

Harper made a noise and they fell silent again, listening to the mansion settling around them. Killian's eyelids felt heavy, but he didn't want to close them; if he did, he'd fall asleep in the hallway and then he'd never get Harper back to bed and in the morning Anna and Kristoff would be frantic wondering where their daughter was. But he didn't want to leave Emma just yet, so maybe if he closed them for just a moment...

* * *

"Killian."

His neck hurt. His neck hurt and he was sitting up and someone was shaking him. "Killian, come on, you need to get ready."

"Daddy."

"Come here, princess, you can tell me why you were out here with Uncle Killian while you get a bath."

"Nooooo."

Killian opened his eyes to a sea of people surrounding him; that might be a slight exaggeration, but his brother and sister-in-law were definitely there, as well as the photographer, Kristoff, Ruby, and a team of women he could only presume were there to manhandle Emma into hair and makeup.

Emma.

He remembered closing his eyes, not wanting to leave her just yet, and he must have fallen asleep before he could take Harper back and go to bed himself. "Damn, what time is it?" he asked, stretching and trying to get his spine in some sort of working shape.

"Just after eight," Liam said, offering his hand. Killian took it and Liam hauled him to his feet. "Come on, there's breakfast in your room; you'll feel better once you've eaten and showered."

Liam was right - the shower eased the aches he felt from spending the night on the floor with a four-year old on his lap and his arm twisted enough to hold Emma's hand - but the interrogation that accompanied breakfast about why they'd found him on the floor outside of Emma's room didn't improve his mood in the least. "At least you told her," Liam said when Killian had answered every question to his satisfaction. They were getting dressed now, following the strict orders of the organizer who'd rapped on the door and told them the photographer would be stopping by. "And she's not calling the whole thing off."

Killian only glared at Liam's reflection in the mirror, but chose not to reply. He hadn't quite realized how many parts went into his attire for the day and realized with another pang how Emma had quietly infiltrated this part of his life as well - she seemed to sense when there would be any difficulties with his disability and moved in before he ever realized there might be an issue. Now he had one cuff done and set with the wolf's head cufflink and the other hanging uselessly around his wrist, and his bowtie hanging limp around his neck. "If you wouldn't mind shutting your gob and being a _useful_ best man, brother-"

"Ah, right."

The photographer did indeed stop by, snapping photos of Liam tying his bowtie and setting the boutonniere - roses for their mother, as promised - and getting them to do some 'candid' shots to fill the time before they needed to head downstairs. "How's Emma doing?" Killian asked as they trooped down the stairs.

"She's growling at everyone sticking her with hairpins and insisting she can do it herself, or at least that's what she was doing when I was in there," the photographer said.

Killian smiled and Liam clapped him on the shoulder.

The downstairs has been transformed with fairy lights - not real fairies or bewitchment, which would have cost extra and Emma had put her foot down on that when non-magical lights would do the trick - and red berry branches frosted with white glitter. The altar's backdrop was a stunning view of the snowy scene outside; the whole thing would be rearranged after the ceremony for dinner, while the guests enjoyed cocktails and the wedding party had more photos done.

It looked like a winter wonderland and he wished he could see Emma's reaction when she saw it.

* * *

" _Are you sure it's not too…" Emma paused, unsure how to phrase it. She chewed her lower lip, looking over the ideas jotted down. "Girly?" she finally asked._

 _She could almost feel the exasperation rolling off of him. "Love, it's a seasonal theme."_

" _Yeah, but it's not like, covered in flannel or antlers everywhere or-"_

" _Emma. I don't bloody care about making it manly or girly or what have you. Is this what you want?" She hesitated for only a moment before nodding. The way he prioritized her wants and desires before his own was still so foreign to her and she just didn't want to push him on something he didn't want. Then, as if he read her mind, Killian added, "If I truly didn't like it, I would say so. Just as long as you're the one wearing the dress and I'm wearing the trousers, it's fine."_

 _She glanced up at him, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Darn, I was hoping we could switch on that one."_

 _She laughed as he growled and slung an arm around her neck, proceeding to mess up her hair._

* * *

And quite suddenly, Killian was alone at the front of the room, looking out across the dozens of people in attendance as Liam escorted Ruby down the aisle. The twins, dressed in their little fur-lined capes and hoods over their white dresses, had apparently received another briefing on how not to run down the aisle, because this time they managed it only by attempting to walk with one foot placed precisely in front of the other, heel to toe, and garnered a lot of 'aww's from the congregation.

When they finally reached the end of the aisle, rose petals scattered in their wake, the music changed and everyone stood, completely blocking his view of the back of the room - the intent to hide Emma until the very last moment-

His heart must have stopped at some point, or he'd passed on from the sheer boredom of waiting for the ceremony to start. An angel appeared at the end of the aisle, practically glowing in white and draped in a furred wrap - he realized it matched Emma's pelt almost exactly and wondered how she'd managed to arrange that. Her hair, pulled away from her face, cascaded down her back in gentle curls underneath the veil, and a silver tiara dotted with small roses rested on her head. He couldn't see much detail in the bodice of her gown, covered as it was with her wrap, but the skirt flared out at the waist to drape elegantly to the floor, something sparkly sewn into the organza winking at him in the light with every step she took.

She was breathtaking.

James leaned over and murmured something he couldn't make out over all the other ambient noise, but whatever he said caused Emma's smile to widen, and Killian's insides melted all over again at the look of pure joy on her face. When they reached the end of the aisle, James paused and kissed Emma on the forehead. "Your parents would be proud of you," Killian heard him say quietly.

Killian stepped forward and offered his arm as Emma discretely swiped at the corners of her eyes. "You look absolutely stunning, love," he murmured, leaning in to give her some cover.

"And now I'm ruining my makeup," she muttered, her voice thick with emotion. "Dammit, I told him not to make me cry. He was threatening to all morning."

He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her, letting her dab at her tears before they joined the officiant. He never quite knew how to take her uncle, not when he'd shown more than once that he had the bite to back up his bark. Neither he nor his choice in mate seemed to lean heavily on the sympathetic or emotional side of things, though he supposed there had to be some kind of familial loyalty for them to take in their orphaned niece. But they were pack, and bound by blood to one another, and the occasion of one's life-bonding to another could be as good a time as any to prove that the care and protection they'd provided to her went much further than a sense of familial duty.

Clutching his handkerchief just behind her bouquet, Emma nodded and they stepped forward, allowing the patient officiant to begin.

He barely heard the speech, so mesmerised as he was by the soft, happy glow she seemed to radiate. The congregation chuckled when the officiant said his name a few times to get his attention in order to recite his vows.

This had been another long source of debate between them, whether or not to write their own vows. He'd been on the side of writing their own, while she'd been fine with something more traditional. In the end, they'd agreed to write their own - he suspected she relented because they'd gone with so many of her desires for the design of the wedding, but she'd never admit it - and even now, when it wasn't her turn, he saw her starting to flush from anticipation at such a show of vulnerability.

"Emma, I'm not someone who believes in fate or destiny, but I may have to bend that belief when it comes to you. Though we hardly spoke that first meeting, something must have compelled us to meet again, and through that I am forever grateful to have found someone who completes me as much as you do. Every day with you is a joy, even when we argue or we don't see each other because we're on opposite shifts. You have changed my life, irrevocably, and I can never repay you for that. But for a start, I vow to honor and love and cherish you, to show you every kindness you deserve, and to always stand by your side, from this day for the rest of our lives."

As he spoke, he took the simple platinum band with a line of diamonds from Liam and slid it onto her ring finger, then slid her mother's ring on after. Emma reached up and dabbed at his cheek with his handkerchief; startled, he gave her a questioning look before touching his cheek and realizing it was wet. As there were still tears in her eyes, he could give himself a pass for being so emotional in the moment, and took a breath to try and calm down.

She smiled, and took his ring, a match to hers with only a single small diamond for decoration, then took a shaky breath.

"Killian, I'm not as good at flowery speeches or putting emotions to word as you." She paused, letting everyone chuckle at that, himself included. "But I wanted to try to put everything into words, because sometimes I forget how similar we are, that you and I need to hear the words of validation and love and support, even when you do that infuriating thing where you seem to read my mind and give me that smile like you just got lucky and guessed what I was thinking. So I vow to try harder on that, so you don't have to pretend to get lucky any more, but more importantly I vow to show you how much I love you in any way that I can, even when I can't put it into words. And I vow to honor and cherish you, and boss you around in sickness but compromise in health, from this day on."

Everyone who knew about Emma's treatment of him after the accident laughed at that as she slid his ring on. He twiddled his fingers a little, the unfamiliar pressure of the ring fading as he grew accustomed, and they joined hands again as the officiant stated, "By the laws that govern man and wolf, it is with great joy that I declare you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride."

Killian thought his face might break from grinning as everyone started to clap; he only winced slightly when he heard Alice's distinct, piercing whistle (the other wolves in the crowd chastised her for that), then proceeded to sweep Emma back in a dip before kissing her. She squeaked in surprise, gripping the collar of his jacket, and smacked him on the arm when he brought her back up. "You're ridiculous," she told him.

"But now you're stuck with me," he observed as Ruby handed back her bouquet.

Emma tucked herself against him as she slid her arm through his. "I am."

* * *

The afternoon wore on into the evening as photos were taken, speeches were made, food was eaten, and everyone exhausted themselves with dancing. At last count, at least thirty-seven people had tapped their glasses to make Killian kiss his wife - his _wife_ \- and they'd managed to eat an entire plate of food between them before running around and greeting everyone and shoving cake into each other's faces. Even Killian couldn't remember all of the people he'd introduced Emma to and vice versa; it was enough to just remember that if he didn't recognize them then they were likely acquaintances of Emma's family.

Finally, as people gradually started to leave, Emma caught his eye and took his hand. He thought that, as those at the center of attention for this particular party, they would be missed right away; but she slipped them both through a back door and around the areas of congregation to a side stair, sneaking upstairs and locking themselves in their room before anyone could stop them. "Oh thank God, I just want out of these shoes," Emma said, leaning against the door with closed eyes and a satisfied sigh.

She kicked off her heels and he watched with amusement as she shrank in height. A log in the fire popped and Emma's eyes opened, then widened as she took in the room.

He'd made arrangements with the staff to have a fire started while they were out; additionally, an ice bucket with a bottle of wine sat on the dresser next to two glasses, and white candles flickered around the room, bathing everything in a soft glow. There were even rose petals scattered on the quilt and Emma's hand went to her mouth when she spotted them. "Killian, this is too much -"

He stepped towards her, putting his hands on her shoulders. "It's hardly anything at all, love. It's just a little nightcap on top of the evening - we should pull out all the stops, when are we going to get married again?"

He took her hand and she allowed him to pull her over to the dresser. "Still…"

Happily, someone had already opened the wine and left the cork in at an easy to remove angle; Killian popped it out and poured them each a glass. "Still nothing," he said, handing hers over and taking up his own. "Let's make every moment of today something to remember. To us, Mrs. Jones."

He held out his glass to tap against hers and they both drank. "So," Emma said, swirling her wine around in her glass. "Shall we… get into something a little more comfortable?"

"By all means."

This should be the 'ripping each other's clothes off' portion of the evening, but if she felt as weary as he did then he didn't blame either of them for slowly undoing buttons and untying knots. He watched her reflection in the mirror as she pulled the pins from her hair and untangled the tiara and veil from their precarious perches. She left her shawl draped over the back of a chair and glanced over her shoulder at him. "Help me with this?"

His mouth felt suddenly dry, the coquettish way she lowered her lashes making his heart race. Standing close behind, Killian lowered his lips to her shoulder, pressing featherlight kisses along her skin up to her neck as he popped each button open. She let her head fall to the side, giving him better access, and she groaned when he scraped his teeth along the juncture of her neck. The scent of arousal flooded his nose and her dress slipped, the last button free; the heavy material pulled the bodice around her middle and he was delighted to note that she wasn't wearing a bra. "Sneaky wench," he murmured against her skin, then ran his tongue along the soft shell of her ear.

"Didn't feel necessary," she breathed, stepping away. "Give me a minute, and I'm all yours, I promise."

He backed off, nodding, and she hurried into the bathroom, hiking up her dress as she went. He picked up his wine glass for another sip, then went about undoing his suspenders and unbuttoning his shirt, letting it hang open for now. The water in the bathroom turned on and he heard her start to - presumably - wash her face, and smiled to himself. As beautiful as she looked when made up, he loved her completely bare and free; for one thing, he didn't particularly pride himself when wearing lipstick on his cock. For another, he preferred the way she smelled without all of the artificial nonsense that came with perfumes and makeup.

As he turned down the covers, scattering rose petals to the floor, he heard a delicate cough from behind him. Turning, the vision before him made him feel as if all the wind had been knocked from him.

Emma, leaning against the doorframe in such a way that highlighted the curves of her breasts and hips, wearing naught but lace panties and garters to hold up the silky stockings.

"Bloody hell…"

"I thought about getting something slinky," she said, pushing off the doorframe and walking towards him. Good God, he'd seen her in everything and nothing at all but she still managed to make his cock swell with every surprise. "You know, white silk teddy, really go for the whole virginal bride thing." She paused right in front of him, her fingers slowly dancing up his chest and giving him gooseflesh. "But then I figured, there's nothing virginal about me, and you'd only rip it up anyway, so save myself some money and go with what I've been wearing all day."

He swallowed hard and his cock throbbed. "You've been wearing that _all day_?"

"Mmmhm."

There was a sly smile on her lips - lips that were a hair's width from his own, tempting and plump and still stained red from her lipstick. He surged forward, catching them with his own, moving against her mouth with the sort of desperate urgency he's come to associate only with her. She pushed the shirt from his shoulders and it landed somewhere on the floor behind him as her hands moved to his waistband and pulled. Ever the clever multitasker, Emma walked them backwards, towards the crackling fireplace and the fur rug laid out before it, and eagerly welcomed his kisses as she unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers. He stumbled slightly and she caught him, giggling against him as he hastily shoved his trousers and underwear down, leaving them strewn in their wake.

He took advantage of his hunched position and gripped her hips and nuzzled her covered core. He inhaled, feeling the rush of adrenaline as the wolf in him rose closer to the surface with the need to _bite claim take_. Her hands in his hair - her touch gentle and soothing despite the racing thrum of her heartbeat in his ears - calmed him only slightly and his tongue flicked out, licking a stripe up the thin cloth hiding her from him.

The fresh wave of arousal hit his nose before her gasp reached his ears.

"While I very much appreciate these," he murmured, fingering the strap of a garter, "and I would dearly love to revisit them in the very near future, you're hiding something from me."

His fingers hooked under her waistband and he swiftly pulled them down, helping her step out of her stockings; these were all tossed unceremoniously to the side as he sank to his knees, gently urging one of her legs up and over his shoulder and granting him access to the sweetness of her sex. "Good girl," he whispered, absently noting that she had goosebumps on her thighs, "let me have a taste…"

Killian parted her folds with his fingers, leaning in to run his tongue along her slick seam. Her grip on his hair tightened and his skin tingled - _fuck_ he loved her pulling his hair. He drank her in like a man dying of thirst: laying the flat of his tongue across the length of her and thrusting across her clit, tracing nonsense patterns over every sensitive spot he could remember, trading fingers for tongue in her dripping entrance. Every sound elicited was a treasure, the moans, whimpers and stilted cries music to his ears - and he even enjoyed the little rebukes she gave him, knowing there were keen ears throughout the building around them and not caring one whit.

He was a man claiming his wife, his _mate_ , and he didn't give a damn who was nosy enough to hear it.

She cursed him when he retreated, leaving her thrumming and on edge, but he had other plans. He laid her down on the rug, the heat from the fire licking along his skin. Her legs fell open, leaving all of her spread and bare for him, glistening in the light. Her scent washed over him anew and he couldn't tell which pounding heartbeat belonged to whom and he swore he'd never been so aroused in his entire life as he was in this moment. She propped herself up on her elbows, watching him with clear expectation on her face. Moving so that he was kneeling before her, he hitched one of her legs over his hip and dragged the head of his cock through her wet folds. Her head fell back as she moaned, her hips thrusting up slightly to try and catch him inside of her. His eyes fell to the juncture of her neck.

Soon.

"Right now?" he asked, repeating the motion with his cock. She bit her lip this time and he couldn't help but grin. "Are you certain?"

"Killian, if you don't fuck me right now, I swear to God-"

He surged forward, sheathing himself in her in one movement and she gasped. He swallowed hard, hardly giving her a chance to adjust to the sudden intrusion before he began to move. Her core felt hot and tight, gripping his cock as he slowly fucked into her and his instincts clamored to take over.

Bite. Claim. Take.

 _Mine._

A snarl escaped, his grip on his control gone, and he surged forward again, knocking Emma flat on her back as he picked up the pace. She let out a small cry of surprise, but even so her hands flew up to his back, her nails digging in as she, too, gave in to her baser instincts.

He pounded into her, reveling in the feel of her writhing under him and the pleasure coursing through his veins; her nails scored down his back and he barely restrained a howl as she fought to roll them over but he wouldn't have it. She bit his shoulder, fighting against his weight keeping her under him, and he bit her lip in return, sucking it into his mouth with a sloppy kiss. Her pupils were blown from arousal and the almost feral pull of this ancient ceremony.

Did he look like that too? A wild, untamed thing with the moon in his eyes and the call of the Pack in his veins?

She pushed against him again even as she rutted up against him; he didn't quite expect a fight for dominance of their mating ritual, but he shouldn't have put it past her. The wolf in him had control, snarling every time she tried to push back and make him submit to her. Every snarl was met with another bite and another push, another attempt at a roll to place her on top of him and this addition to their ancient dance only made his blood run hotter. He couldn't ask for a better woman to be his mate, fiery and spirited, his equal or better in every way. The curling pleasure of his impending orgasm began to build and he gave in to her fight, letting her roll them over so she was splayed on top of him. The pause for shock, that he'd let her dominate him for even a moment in this, let him sit up, balancing her on his lap.

She seemed to understand without words, and looped one of her arms around his neck as he braced his arms on her hips as she continued to move. Her eyes fluttered closed as her free hand slipped between them, touching herself and brushing against the base of his cock as she hurried along her own pleasure. He was close, the need to spill into her and mark her as his, but they needed to do this together.

He dipped his head down and took a nipple into his mouth, her other breast brushing softly against his cheek as she continued to rock. His name fell in a rough chant from her lips as he sucked and rolled her nipple around on his tongue. "I'm-"

"Ready?" he asked, his own voice harsh and almost foreign to his own ears.

He looked up and could only make out only a thin ring of green in her eyes. She nodded, an errant curl falling across her face, and he renewed his grip on her hips and sped up their movements.

As their pleasure peaked, the room was oddly silent. A man taking his wife for the first time, one might expect the walls to shake from their cries, for noise complaints. But any sounds they would have made were muffled, as he sank his teeth into the juncture of her neck and felt the sharp prick of her teeth puncturing his skin in return. The pain was brief and shifted almost instantly to pleasure, almost overwhelming as the ancient magic of the mate-bond took hold and wrapped itself in his orgasm. The bliss doubled, then tripled, and he felt disoriented for a moment, a hundred thoughts that weren't his own filling his mind and with a distinctly feminine touch that would have been familiar outside of this distracting haze of magic and feeling; he heard a distant wolf's call and the answer of the Pack as everything faded.

Killian didn't black out, but it was a close thing, his body pleasantly numbed as he withdrew from Emma. She, on the other hand, sank bonelessly against him, curling up against his chest as the pounding of their hearts quieted in his ears.

He glanced down to where he'd bitten her, taken her at last, and saw only the smallest pinpricks from his incisors marring her skin, already healed. Such a tiny thing to carry such weight, and he absently brought his hand up to touch the marks he now bore to match.

She jerked against him when he touched them, and a fresh sensation of arousal coursed through him - tired as he was, he shouldn't be nearly ready for another round yet, but just touching the mate-mark seemed to revive him a little. "Interesting..." he mused.

"Not interesting enough to test out right now, I hope," Emma mumbled. "I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted."

Killian chuckled, and managed to both get to his own feet and haul her up into his arms, bridal-style. "We'll test the limits of this another time, my love. Let's get you cleaned up and we'll have a well-deserved sleep."

She waved him off after he set her on the feet in the bathroom and he left her to her privacy, going to bank the fire instead. They traded places once she was done, and after he'd cleaned his teeth and wiped himself down, he returned to the bedroom to find her looking all to pleased and comfortable under the covers. "We're taking this bed home with us," Emma declared.

Sinking into it next to her, he decided it might not be a bad idea. "Or we could just inquire about where they got it and buy our own."

She grumbled, curling up into him and laying her head on his shoulder. "Stealing's more fun," she said and he had to laugh.

"I like our bed," he said.

"It's not as comfortable."

"No," he agreed, "but it's ours. It's where we came together for the first time. And it smells just right - it smells like you."

She scoffed, but a shift in her scent told him she was pleased. "Flatterer. I'm already your wife, no need to keep it up."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Nonsense. There's plenty more compliments to shower on you, and I'll take it as my husbandly duties to pay them out as I see fit."

"You're ridiculous."

"I am," Killian agreed, and kissed her again. He felt as drowsy as she smelled, sleep pulling at his bones, and the bed _was_ comfortable. "Dream of me and all of my ridiculousness, mate."


End file.
